A Once and Future Destiny
by wryter501
Summary: Arthur stood as if frozen in time, as if the ceiling had dropped down, or he'd been hit over the head with a … tree branch, or… "Don't you know who I am?" he blurted. "Don't you remember me?" Merlin concluded shortly, "Nope." If Destiny has returned the once and future court of Camelot to the world, what does it mean that Merlin doesn't - or won't - remember them?
1. Chapter 1

A Once and Future Destiny

Chapter 1 – First Day in Camelot

Arthur straightened the cuffs of his sleeves in the back seat of his father's Bentley, then smoothed his hair. He hadn't been this nervous on his first day of anything else – not high school, not his first job, not any of the four years he'd been at Brown. He watched the greenery blur past the window, tapping the ring he wore on his left hand idly on the door's armrest.

"You're not nervous, are you, Sire" Leon's cool, somewhat ironic voice came to him from the driver's seat of the car.

That made him smile. He loosened the knot of his silk tie, and instead of answering the question, he commented, "The last time you called me 'Sire,' Leon, I was a teenager."

Leon chuckled, nodding. "I remember. Your father gave me a week off without pay, and said I could return to my job on one condition…"

"That you never mentioned my 'daydreams' again?" Arthur guessed. "He forbid me from speaking to you about them, too, asked if I wanted to be responsible for you losing your job."

He was silent for a moment, thinking back to adolescence and the vivid dreams he'd had, night after night, of men in red cloaks and chain mail, of legendary monsters, of women in sumptuous velvet gowns, and one woman in particular. Of a uniquely wrought sword that fit his hand perfectly. Of battles… and sorcerers.

"Well, Arthur," Leon's voice held amusement as he checked his side mirror before making a turn, "you will be entering Camelot for the first time today. It's a big day – Sire." His eyes twinkled briefly at Arthur in the rearview mirror.

That young dreamer he'd been had reveled in those dreams of a kingdom and a sword and a table, isolated as he'd been in all the finest schools, by his father's money and business power. Until one day when he'd come face to face with his father's newest employee, a driver/bodyguard named Leon – and recognized that face. And found, to his surprise, that Leon recognized him, too.

"Leon," Arthur said, his voice deepening slightly, "why now? Why here – I mean, D.C.?" Leon remained silent. "And what about the others?"

Leon decelerated in preparation for his turn into the main drive of Camelot Technologies, Inc. "I don't know," he said. "I never truly believed my own childhood dreams until your father hired me, and I saw you – again. But I'm sure it's not a mistake, not a coincidence – it's not for nothing." He passed the employee parking lot entrance, instead coasting down the circular drive and braking in front of the main entrance of the building.

Arthur looked up at the imposing stone edifice, at the twisted metal of the modern-art sculpture on the lawn, symbolizing a rising sun. He could see nothing of the interior of the building through the darkly tinted glass. He took a deep breath and reached to open the door; he was afraid of nothing.

He was King Arthur, after all.

Leon cleared his throat. "I'll be returning with your father in about an hour, sir," he said professionally, neutrally. "He wanted me to remind you that his assistant will meet you in the lobby with instructions for your first day."

"Thank you, Sir Leon," he said wryly, swiveling on the padded leather seat to step out of the car. He slammed the door behind him, then crossed the sidewalk to enter the building as Leon pulled the Bentley away from the curb.

Arthur pulled open the glass door, crossed the charcoal-grey floor-mat, pulled open a second glass door to enter Camelot's main lobby. The Camelot rising sun was set in shimmering yellow granite in the white tile of the floor in the center of the lobby, which was open to all three floors. To his left two vacant meeting rooms stood open, and in the rear a comfortably arranged waiting area centered around a thick beige rug. The grand staircase was centered in the rear, rising to the second floor before splitting to continue up to the third at right angles to the main stair. To his left, the high counter of the receptionists' desk hid the waist-level work area behind. He leaned on the narrow ledge, bringing computers, phones, filing cabinets, printer, charts, and lists in organized chaos into view.

The plump, elderly lady perched on her padded chair gave him a bright smile over her shoulder, held up a single finger to him as the phone system warbled, echoing through the lobby. She reached to press a button on the phone – Arthur noticed the stem of a headset extending toward her mouth.

"Good morning, Camelot Technologies, this is Patty," she said, pleasantly professional. "Yes, sir, the director is at his desk – one moment while I put your call through – you're very welcome." She pushed her chair back from the computer terminal, rolling and swiveling simultaneously to face him. "How can I help you?"

He gave her his best charming smile. "I'm Arthur Drake," he said.

Her brown eyes lit up behind half-specs. "Of course you are! First day of your internship, bright and early! If you'll please sign in on that clipboard, I'll let Mary know you're here – that's just for today, you know, Mary will get you set up with your photo ID and key card later."

The phone system warbled again, and Patty spun away, using the edge of the desk to draw herself back to her console. "Good morning, Camelot Technologies…"

Arthur signed his name, bold and dark, then wandered a few steps away from the desk, craning his neck to see up to the other levels of the building. First day in Camelot – his pulse quickened. His first day in prep school he'd scanned classmates eagerly for "familiar" faces. He'd done the same every year of college. If he hadn't had Leon – no matter that they weren't allowed to discuss their "dreams" – he didn't know what he would have done. Denied the truth of things, places, people "remembered", denied his identity?

Like his father had done?

A clatter of heeled pumps interrupted another incoming phone call, and a heavyset blonde woman came into view, descending the large main staircase. She was closer to his father's age than his, he saw as she came to him, beaming.

"And you're Arthur Drake," she said, reaching to take both his hands. "I'm so pleased to meet you – I'm Mary, your father's PA. Though you don't look much like your father, do you, dear?"

He gave her his charming smile. "I've been told I favor my mother," he said.

Behind him, the phones rang, interrupting Patty's cheerful greeting.

"Well, we've got a busy day – a tour for you this morning, and then quite a bit of paperwork this afternoon, I'm afraid – excuse me one moment."

Patty was still animatedly fielding calls, though the phone system announced another caller. Mary stepped around the side of the desk, picking up the phone at the second station. Moments later, the two women exchanged a look in the temporary silence.

"Hasn't the temp agency sent a replacement receptionist?" Mary said.

"Yes, she's just finishing distributing the mail." Patty pointed to the door behind Mary, which opened as a young woman leaned against it from a room beyond – an extensive, cubicle-dotted room, Arthur saw, before his attention was captured completely, and time slowed to a crawl.

Long dark ringlets cascaded down the back of her blue and white striped shirt, clipboard in hand, fitted black pants – she turned. Smooth brown skin, rounded cheeks – chocolate eyes. He approached slowly, helplessly, as she smiled and greeted Mary, his heart rising in his chest to smother his voice. _Turn and look at me_, his heart commanded.

"Mary, this is Gwen Bell," Patty was saying. "Gwen, Mary is Mr. Drake's personal assistant. And this young man –" Gwen turned to see him for the first time – or, again – eyes widening in astonishment – "is Arthur Drake, Mr. Drake's only son. He'll be serving an internship at Camelot this summer."

_Remember, please remember_, he pleaded internally, leaning over the high ledge of the desk to reach his hand to her, saying aloud, "This is a genuine pleasure."

Gwen almost dropped the clipboard. Her hand rose to touch his and jerk back, as though she'd put her hand into a fire. Mary cleared her throat in amusement, the phones warbled, and Patty turned back to the desk.

"I'm sorry," Gwen murmured, dropping her eyes in confusion, a blush coloring her complexion more richly, "I'm meant to be – answering phones." Mary moved out from behind the desk, and Gwen stepped forward to the vacant seat, darting another glance up at him.

"Have lunch with me?" he said swiftly, happily. "Twelve o'clock, in the break-room?" She hesitated, then dipped her head in agreement.

"We'll start down here, Arthur," Mary said, leaning against a second doorway, further down. He strode to follow her, trying to stop grinning, and threw a look over his shoulder. Gwen was watching him with a stunned expression – when he met her eyes again, she turned away, flustered, to reach for the phone headset on the desk.

"I don't mean to be rude, but policy does forbid inter-office relationships," Mary said maternally. "Now, this is the After-Sales Service department, you'll share an office in the corner with the director while you're here. The mail slots are just there, the call center is that whole corner over there, and let me just introduce you to –"

Arthur shook hands happily, grinning like an idiot – well, maybe not _that_ – though there were no more "familiar" faces. His queen of hearts was _here_. Some deep part of him that had been in quiet tension for years, relaxed almost fully. Seeing Sir Leon, his father's driver/bodyguard, had helped, but now… now he _knew_.

Even the thought that his internship would be served in the A.S.S. department couldn't cloud this day.

He hoped there was only one break-room.

He checked the watch on his wrist as Mary led him around a corner toward the rear of the building, commenting on the regional office that resided within the corporate headquarters, the warehouse facilities to the extreme rear of the building, through that door there, dear, "And the restrooms, locker rooms, fitness room, and break-room are down this hallway," Mary pointed out. "There's three refrigerators, four microwaves, and a toaster oven, if you want to bring a lunch – or some of us like to call out for delivery – Chinese or Italian or subs, or you can drive down into town."

He followed her up a carpeted stairway, down another hall. "Here is our marketing department, mail room, and our salesmen's center," Mary told him, pushing open another door onto the second floor, with an open floor plan checkered with chin-high cubicle walls. They threaded their way through the corporate jungle, pausing to greet whoever wasn't occupied with phone calls.

"This corner is the IT department," Mary announced. A quick glance though smoky glass windows re-oriented Arthur; they'd come back to the front left corner of the building again. "Actually, we have a new intern in this department as well, started just last week – fresh out of high school, if you can believe it – but his grandfather heads up the lab – that's in a separate building we can visit later if you're interested – good morning, Carol, and how's your young intern – Marvin, wasn't it?"

Carol, a thirty-something woman in a navy pantsuit with close-cut brown hair, looked up from her computer, though her fingers never paused on the keyboard. "He's with Aiden right now – some problem with the firewall on their new program." Arthur sensed Mary's surprise, but Carol shrugged and added as she turned back to her own work, "He said he could handle it – he knows he can call Steve if he can't figure it out."

"Hm," Mary said, and gave Arthur a bright smile. "Let's go see how they're doing."

He followed the blonde PA down another short hall, and paused at the doorway she entered, putting her hands on her ample hips. "How's it going, Aiden?" she said.

A thickset middle-aged man straddled a padded desk-chair backwards, his sleeves rolled up and his arms resting on the suit-coat draped over the back of the chair. He twisted gently in the seat, eyes on the computer screen several feet away, where someone else knelt, typing furiously. "Just fine," he answered absently. "He's a wizard with computers, aren't you, Merlin?"

_Wizard – Merlin_. Arthur practically leaped into the room, passing Mary swiftly before coming to a dead stop. And if seeing Gwen wasn't enough – here he was. Merlin. Mop of shaggy black hair, jeans over timberland boots, a long-sleeved collared shirt over a ridiculous green t-shirt that showed at the open collar and through the white pin-striped fabric. But… he had a black leather wristband studded with silver knobs, and the nails of the fingers working so furiously were painted black. He chewed a mangled red coffee stir-stick.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, ridiculously, blissfully happy. Wait til Leon found out – and Gwen, it was her first day, she probably hadn't seen Merlin yet – and who else would he find here in Camelot?

Aiden said in a tone of explanation, "He _is_ a wizard - with computers – so we decided Merlin was more appropriate than Marvin. For a nickname." Mary chuckled.

Merlin shot Arthur a dark glare under the shaggy fringe of his hair, and turned his attention back to the screen.

Arthur stood as if frozen in time, as if the ceiling had dropped down, or he'd been hit over the head with a … tree branch, or… "Don't you know who I am?" he blurted.

Merlin reached for the mouse with his right hand as he continued working the keyboard with his left. He sent another brooding glance over Arthur's person, took in the figure of Mary beside him, and concluded shortly, "Nope."

"I'm Arthur," Arthur said stupidly, stuck in disbelief.

Merlin snorted, attention back on his work.

"That's a funny coincidence – Arthur and Merlin, in Camelot," Aiden offered. Mary chuckled appreciatively.

"You're done," Merlin announced suddenly, unfolding to his full height and brushing between Arthur and Mary on his way to the door.

Arthur spun, grabbing his sleeve. "Don't you remember me?" he demanded. "Merlin?"

He'd never seen those blue eyes glare so angrily. He dropped his hand.

"Merlin – Marvin," Mary said uncertainly from behind them. "Ah – Merlin, this is Arthur Drake – the boss' son."

One corner of Merlin's mouth rose in a faint sneer. "Ah, the prince of the realm," he said. Had Merlin's sarcasm ever been so bitter? "If you'll excuse me – sire –" one long arm crossed his body diagonally as he bent forward in a mocking half-bow – "I have work to do."

Arthur pressed his lips together to keep his mouth from dropping open as he watched Merlin walk away, every pace of his gawky stride familiar. Merlin didn't look back.

What?

"He is a genius," Aiden said apologetically behind them. "Just – a bit antisocial, is all."

"If you want to make a complaint to HR –" Mary said to Arthur hesitantly.

"No," he said immediately. "Don't worry about it." A small part of his mind prompted ironically, _what would they do to merlin – put him in the stocks? A dungeon?_

Don't worry… don't worry… _excuse me, sire_… a wizard with computers… Arthur didn't remember hearing a single word Mary said the rest of the morning.

What on earth was wrong with Merlin? He remembered a cheerful, irreverent grin, an irrepressible good humor, even at his own expense, a self-sacrificial courage… he remembered a friend. Plenty of horseplay, certainty – but Merlin was well able to hold his own, even as a servant against a trained knight and king. And at the end… the end Arthur remembered but dimly. What stood out were three things – the anxious fear on Merlin's face as he confessed his deepest darkest secret, his own gradual realization of Merlin's selfless service, and – through pain and a spreading warm numbness – an overwhelming gratitude for his best friend's unreserved love and support.

What had happened?

"Well, now it's noon." Mary's voice penetrated his fog of confusion. "After lunch we'll be doing paperwork in HR's conference room, but for now, what would you like –"

"How do you get to the break-room from here?" he said quickly, wincing as he realized his rude interruption.

"You can go down the main stair just here," Mary said, without offense, "or there's the door on the back wall where we came up, that leads to the break-room corridor."

"Thank you – I'll meet you in the lobby at one?" Arthur said. Mary nodded and moved away.

Arthur leaned over the railing opening to the lobby as the phone system burbled and echoed. Only Patty's plump figure was visible from above. Arthur headed swiftly for the back-wall door, fairly jumping down the stairs and swinging himself around the turn into the break-room corridor, now warm with the smells of food. He stopped himself sprinting down the carpeted hall, eagerly craning for another glimpse of her, ready to put the mystery of Merlin's reaction to the back of his mind.

First he thought she hadn't come, and his heart dropped again. Then he saw her sitting by herself in a back corner, at the very end of one of the long tables, a brown paper bag on the table in front of her. Her arms were crossed over her body as she leaned forward, biting her lip nervously as she watched another coworker rummage in one of the refrigerators.

"Gwen," he said with relief and love as he came nearer, holding out his arms.

Her chair squeaked and clattered as she jumped up, glancing self-consciously toward the room's other occupants. He heard female voices behind him, entering the room, and dropped his arms, satisfying himself with taking her hand. "Gwen," he said again.

"You're Arthur," she said. She glanced up shyly, but didn't pull her hand away.

"Yes."

"You're _Arthur_," she repeated, with emphasis.

He grinned, remembering the shock he'd felt being re-introduced to Sir Leon. "Yes."

"You're Arthur Drake," she said. Then she pulled her hand away, and dropped into the metal folding chair, clutching the sides of the seat with both hands.

He pulled out the chair opposite her, leaned forward over hands clasped on the tabletop, held her eyes with his. "Arthur _Pendragon_," he said, keeping his voice low as more people entered the room.

She sighed, her shoulders dropped as tension relaxed. She studied him, searched his face, then blurted, "What color was the gown I wore to my coronation?"

Ages ago. He remembered her face, beautiful and serious and happy – queen meant little to her, he knew, the emotion was all for _him_, and their vows, and beginning their life _together_. He remembered her hair, a long wavy black cloud – hadn't there been flowers in it? – and the crown, looking to him as if it had always belonged there. And his knights – his friends – proclaiming unreservedly, _Long live the Queen_!

"Purple," he said decisively. She turned her face slightly, brows lowering. "Or red?" He racked his brain, trying to pull that detail from the memory.

"What was Merlin's mother's name?" she ventured, her expression unsure, as if she feared he would begin to laugh and confess he was only playing a game, only flirting.

"Hunith," he said immediately, smiling as he remembered Gwen scolding him for scorning the bowl of gruel he'd been served.

She took several quick, happy breaths. "Oh, I _hoped_ –" she said. "I mean, Allen was older than me, when I first dreamed… he said he remembered too, that he had those dreams, but part of me wondered if he was just playing along for his baby sister."

"Allen?" Arthur said. "Elyan?"

She nodded. "He's stationed in San Diego now – the navy."

They paused, sharing a happy grin. "Here – you should eat," Arthur said, gesturing at her brown-bag lunch. He stood up, digging in his pocket for change for a sandwich from the pair of vending machines on the back wall, and a Coke.

"Is anyone else here?" she said when he sat back down. "Arthur – I've _missed_ you." She reached to touch the back of his hand, but drew back quickly, looking up self-consciously as two overweight women squeezed behind him to take seats almost near enough to eavesdrop.

"Leon is my father's driver and bodyguard," he told her, enjoying her smile of reminiscence, "and Merlin works upstairs in IT."

Her brown eyes widened. "What?"

"Yes – I gather he's a _wizard_ with computers," Arthur continued, mindful of their neighbors but grinning anyway.

Her mouth dropped open with shock, before she focused on opening a container of pasta salad from her bag lunch. "He _told_ you?" she said.

Arthur blinked. He hadn't considered the question of whether anyone else knew – Gaius, certainly, but anyone else? Gwen? "He told _you_?" he echoed incredulously.

"After the…after Camlann, I _wondered_," she said. "I asked Gaius…Is he coming? Is he going to join us for lunch?"

He paused, some of the good feeling of being with her leaking away. "No, I – I didn't ask him," he mumbled. "Didn't get a chance. He was busy." He ripped open the cellophane wrapper, poked at the slices of turkey and cheese between slightly-soggy white bread, and didn't feel hungry.

"So – Camelot," Gwen said. "Your father's company. Does _he_ remember?"

Arthur frowned. "I think he _did_. When he was young. But he wouldn't listen to my dreams, when I started – remembering. If it wasn't for Leon…"

Gwen nodded. "Allen and I haven't talked about it in years, but when the temp agency told me – _Camelot_ Industries… I couldn't help feeling… even though part of my mind told me I was crazy to hope…"

He took a deep breath, satisfaction filling him. Whatever was wrong with Merlin, it didn't matter – he was here and she was here. And who knew who else would come? He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. The other knights? Other family members? Uther was now "Thomas Drake", and he'd never heard even a whisper of a half-sister, but… who knew?

"Arthur," Gwen began, toying with her plastic fork. "Do you know – why? I mean, why us? Why here? Why now? I mean, Camelot is long gone – Albion – we're in _America_ now, not even England – or Wales – or…"

"Leon told me this morning," he answered slowly, "it can't be a mistake, can't be a coincidence." A thought occurred to him – _grandfather_ – and he added, somewhat playfully, "Gwen, when we had questions – why is this happening, what does this mean, who did we go to?"

"To Gaius," she said immediately, but uncomprehending.

"Merlin has a grandfather who 'heads up the lab'," Arthur said, feeling a smile of relief pull at his mouth.

"You think it might be Gaius?" she said eagerly.

"It's worth a try," he said. He followed her glance to the wall-clock. "You've got to get back to work?"

"Yes – I'm a receptionist for this month," she said. "Someone's on maternity leave." She bit her lip and didn't meet his eyes. He stood as she did, having been raised – twice – to be a gentleman.

"Can I make a date with you?" he said. "Can I make a standing lunch date?" His brain stumbled into the present. "You're not seeing anyone, are you?" The weekend – the _nights_?

She smiled her own sweet smile. "No, I _wasn't_," she said. "But, Arthur…" She bit her lips again, giving him an almost pleading look. "Gwen Bell and Arthur Drake aren't… married."

He leaned close, taking her meaning and intending to follow that cue for their present relationship, for the time being, but he couldn't resist whispering in her ear, "_Yet_."


	2. Chapter 2

**You are all so kind… This being my first attempt at fanfiction, I am still feeling my way… awkwardly, but there is progress… **

**Um, am I supposed to say I don't own merlin? So, yeah… *shuffles feet, mumbles* don't own merlin…**

**But this is all mine…!**

Chapter 2: Gaius' Chambers

Arthur left a pink-cheeked Gwen at the receptionists' desk in the lobby, following Mary up to the third floor, where he was left in the care of another plump, matronly lady in HR, named Roberta.

"Here's your employee handbook," she said, situating him at an empty table in a small conference room. "You're going to need to read through it, sign every page and initial each subsection. Here's the policy on sexual harassment, here's the confidentiality agreement and the hazardous materials checklist, here's the liability waiver… here's all your employment paperwork, your 1040…I'll be right next door – let me know when you're done and we'll get your keycard and ID."

Arthur skimmed the handbook, impatient in the silence of the room, signing and initialing everything. His father ran the company, how much trouble, really, could he get into? And how much danger? He was only an intern, after all. He stood, flexing cramped fingers, and stepped to the window, which looked down on a side lawn, another door that led to – he consulted his internal map of the company's layout – the break-room.

Merlin was outside on the lawn, familiar shaggy black hair and skinny silhouette. He had one arm wrapped around his ribs, one hand lifted to his face in an odd gesture – he moved his hand, and blew out a cloud of smoke. He held his cigarette oddly, not between index and middle finger, but pinched between his thumb and first two fingers, curled under the rest of his hand. He took another long drag, then untucked his left hand to shake a small square box, bring it to his mouth, and leave a new cigarette hanging from his lips. He brought his right hand up again to light the second cigarette from the first, then flicked the used stub into the grass, ignoring the sand-filled bucket next to the base of the wall of the building.

Merlin, a chain-smoker?

A young lady in a khaki skirt approached from the parking lot, fumbling something from the purse over her shoulder, glancing at Merlin as she passed. He ignored her. She placed something in her hand next to the black box on the door to the building, waited a moment, then pushed her way inside.

Arthur frowned as he watched his old friend and sometime servant inhale the rest of the second cigarette, then turn to enter the building as well.

"Done already?" said Roberta brightly, coming in the door. "Just leave this here, I'll gather it later – no, that binder is yours to keep. Step here for one moment and – smile – there. Your ID and key card will be waiting for you at the receptionists' desk tomorrow morning. Now, the rest of your day is free, Mary said, unless you'd like me to –"

"IT's on the second floor, right?" Arthur said, heading for the main stairwell.

"Yes, just – left at the bottom there."

Turning left as instructed, Arthur passed Aiden's office and found himself lingering outside the door of the corner office – Carol T, the nameplate said.

"Can I help you with something?" Carol asked, glancing up briefly. Her desk faced sideways to the door, another desk behind her facing the outer wall.

"Is Merlin around?" Arthur said, coming a few paces into the room.

"Smoke break."

"Ah."

She glanced at him again. "Something else?"

"How's he to work with?" Arthur asked, curious. And bothered, if he admitted it. "Annoyingly cheerful, won't shut up, too clumsy for his own good?"

She looked at him longer, frowning. "Not our Merlin," she said. "Clumsy – well, I'll give you uncoordinated. No, he's moody – it's tough to get him to say two sentences together. But he _is_ brilliant with computers. I guess you could say he does all his communicating with them. But – he's only been here a week. Maybe he's still getting used to us. Hey, Merlin." She looked back to her monitor as Arthur turned to see his friend pass in the hallway.

"Merlin!" Arthur caught up to him. "What' going on?" Was he _angry_ with Arthur? "Are you mad at me for dying?" Arthur said, realizing how ridiculous he sounded, but unable to explain Merlin's attitude.

Merlin shot him an incredulous look. "Are you mental?" he said.

"Stop walking!" Arthur ordered, a hand on Merlin's arm to pin him lightly to the corridor wall. "I know it's been a while, and we were a few years older when we saw each other last, but –"

"Do you know how insane you sound?" Merlin scoffed, shrugging violently away from Arthur's grasp. Arthur leaned closer, his gaze boring into Merlin's. There was no recognition. "I don't know you, _friend_ – so just leave me alone." He turned and strode away.

"Merlin!" Arthur called after him, aware that he couldn't bellow down a company hallway the way he'd hollered down the corridors in the palace, once upon a thousand years ago.

Merlin didn't slow, didn't turn – he picked up an ear-bud from its place dangling against his collarbone and inserted it into his ear, ducking around a corner and out of Arthur's sight.

Arthur sighed, frowned, and descended the grand stair to the lobby.

Gwen was answering a call when she saw him, twinkled and blushed. "Good morn – ah, afternoon… Camelot, ah, Industries…" She waved him away, distracted by his presence, swiveling her chair to turn her back and regain her presence of mind. "How – how may I direct your call?"

"Where's the lab?" Arthur said to Patty.

"Across the road, about a mile down. Shall I let your father know –" The warbling phone interrupted Patty's train of thought.

Arthur leaned over the high ledge to touch Gwen's hand, giving her a cheerful grin on his way out the door. She shook her head at him, but she was smiling.

Arthur walked swiftly past the parking lot, down the drive to the main road. He removed his tie, rolled it and put it in the pocket of his trousers. When he reached the road, he could see the square shoulders of another building above treetops, and moved toward it, crossing the quiet road and walking on the mown grass in spite of his Kenneth Cole's.

The lab was an unpretentious down-scale model of the headquarters building, without the sculpture. The lobby was tiny, a simple desk with a gray-uniformed guard and two molded plastic chairs for waiting.

"I'm Arthur Drake," he told the guard. "I'm here to see – ah –" He couldn't said 'Gaius', could he? – "Ah – the head of the lab."

"Dr. Sagesse?" the guard said, for clarification.

"Dr…. Sagesse," Arthur said, now unsure.

"Dr. Augustus Sagesse?" The guard lifted his eyebrows, clearly expecting Arthur to know the name of the man he came to see. "Dr. Gus?"

"Dr. – Gus," Arthur repeated, relieved. "Yes – if you could tell him Arthur Drake is here."

The guard picked up the phone, hesitated, his finger hovering over the buttons, his eyes wary. "Do you have any identification, sir?" he said.

"Gai – uh, Gus will recognize me," Arthur said, with more confidence than he felt. _I hope_.

The guard made the call, replaced the phone receiver. He watched Arthur pace once to the inner door, then back again, gazing unseeing out toward Camelot. Then the inner door opened.

"_Arthur_."

He turned, pleased – he'd know that voice anywhere. It _was_ Gaius – well, a modern Gaius. His hair was an inch-long white bristle, his pate bald, his eyebrows half-hidden behind the thick black rim of his glasses. He wore a white lab coat over royal blue trousers.

"Come in, come in," the old man said, motioning with a trace of his old preemptory manner. "Arthur – _sire_ – it is so good to see you. I've waited – goodness! – too long for this." He cleared his throat gruffly, and motioned to Arthur that they should follow the hallway. "We can talk in my office."

Gaius' office was white, and spare – stacks of printouts overflowing wire baskets, a closed laptop on the desk, a half-bookshelf stuffed full, with several books resting at an angle on the tops of their brothers. There were three small animal skulls atop the bookshelf, alongside a chunk of smooth and murky green glass and an almost-spherical palm-sized rock. On one wall was a city-scape recognizably Paris, the other supported an enormous window that looked into a room that reminded Arthur of his chemistry lab at Brown. Two white-clothed figures worked together over a back table, wearing full protective gear.

"You remember?" Gaius said, rounding on him abruptly. Arthur nodded. "_Have you seen Merlin_?"

Arthur was startled at the emotion strung between those simple words. "I have," he said slowly. "That's why I came to see you."

"He didn't remember." Gaius leaned on the desk, suddenly looking old and tired. He felt his way to the chair and collapsed into it, crossing his arms and rubbing one hand over his face. "I thought – I _hoped_…" he mumbled. Then he sighed and looked back at Arthur. "Who else?" he said.

Arthur couldn't help a smile, in spite of his perturbation over Merlin. "Leon is my father's driver and bodyguard," he said. "Gwen is finishing her first day as a temporary substitute for one of the receptionists on leave. She said Elyan – Allen – is in San Diego. Navy."

Gaius nodded, then gave Arthur a sharper look. "How long have you known Sir Leon, this time?"

"I was fifteen when my father hired him," Arthur said. "Why?"

Gaius tented his fingers together, gazing blankly through the window into the lab. "You experienced dreams as a boy, then? Vivid, recurring dreams, memories of your former life playing out, reminding you of who you were?"

"Yes – Leon as well. And Gwen told me, she and Elyan – Allen – used to talk… _what is it you're not telling me, Gaius_?" He recognized the look on the old man's face, it meant that Gaius was trying to find a way to give bad news in a good way, or to present disturbing conjecture in the most logical light. "What's wrong with Merlin?"

"I don't know, for sure. He is different. He doesn't remember. He won't speak with me about it. And I am afraid…" Gaius paused. "I had hoped when he laid eyes on you again, sire, that it would help him. But if he doesn't know _you_…"

"Why not?"

Gaius shook his head, spreading his hands apart helplessly. "I can only guess," he said. "Your dreams came at an impressionable age – you were willing to believe, and there was Sir Leon to corroborate what your heart told you was true. Elyan and Gwen had each other, so it would seem. For the rest, we shall just have to wait and see."

The rest. Arthur collapsed into Gaius' guest chair. "Why are we back, Gaius?"

"Destiny called you," the old man said, giving a characteristically simple-yet-complex answer. "I don't suppose you're meant to unite a kingdom, not in this day and age, but – I'm sure there's _something_ important you're meant to do. It's not the why or the what that worries me, though… I'm sure that will come clear in time…"

"What worries you, Gaius?" Arthur asked wearily, though he thought he could guess.

"Merlin," the old man said simply. "Fifteen hundred years ago, he needed you and you needed him. Without him…" he hesitated.

"Without him, we may not be able to fulfill the task Destiny has called us back for, is that it?" Arthur said.

"I'm afraid that's exactly it, sire."

Arthur rubbed his hand over his eyes. "So… if Leon and I helped each other to accept our dreams as truth, and Gwen and Elyan had each other… who did Merlin have? Who did you have, my father?" He didn't remember ever hearing the name Dr. Augustus Sagesse in the Drake household.

"Merlin – had no one," Gaius said softly, sadly. "His father was in the Army, killed in Iraq in 2001. Merlin was six years old. The following year, his mother and older brother were killed in a home invasion, which he apparently slept through."

Arthur stared at him. Merlin's father…mother…older brother… "And where the hell were you?" he said softly.

Gaius grimaced. "I was in Africa. Serving with 'Doctors Without Borders'. I spoke with his father's commander via satellite phone – he said his family wanted to take Marvin in. I thought – I thought young Marvin would do better with a family than with just a grandfather."

"And?" Arthur demanded. "Did he have dreams, too?"

Gaius shook his head, frustrated. "I don't know. I wrote a few letters, which he answered, punctually and properly. He never mentioned dreaming, and I – " The old man cleared his throat. "I didn't know until this spring that the commander had given him back into the state's custody when he was thirteen. And in May Merlin sent me a postcard notice of his graduation. We had – lost touch."

Arthur leaned back, shaking his head. "_Gaius_," he said.

"I blame myself entirely," the old man said. "My own youth was far behind me, and it wasn't until I came to work here, and met your father, that I even remembered my own dreams. But Thomas – your father – didn't share my memories. I thought… well, I was a foolish old man."

Arthur tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. "What are we going to do?" he said.

"I don't know, sire." Gaius went on, "I suppose, in the interests of helping Merlin regain his memories – if they are there for him to access… I do have state records from Washington detailing his years in foster care. Perhaps you could stop by my townhouse this weekend…"

"Washington?" Arthur said, straightening in surprise. "You mean he's been _here_ all along?"

"Not D.C.," Gaius corrected. "Washington state. The commander's family was stationed last at Fort Stewart." At Arthur's look, the old man explained, "Seattle."

"That's about as far away from here as you can get," Arthur said.

"I hope it's not too late for Merlin…"

"It isn't," Arthur decided firmly. "It can't be." _Merlin, giving him a mock-bow_… _prince of the realm.. if you'll excuse me, sire_… "Gaius," he said suddenly, straightening on the edge of his seat, "does Merlin have – magic, this time?"

Gaius swung his chair to face Arthur momentarily, swung it back to gaze through the window once again. "I – believe so," he said. "There were times I suspected… but _he_ doesn't know it, or at least he doesn't accept it."

"_What_?"

Gaius took a deep breath. "This is the future," he said, "of the once and future king. You will need to reach Merlin, Arthur – I've tried, and I cannot, for fear of pushing him too far and losing him again. Whatever you're here to do – I suspect you will need him for it, just as much as you will need any of us who have been granted a return. You may need him more. And he – he will need… well." He looked at Arthur over the thick black rim of his glasses. "Sire – I hate to say this, but… you may not have much time."

When Arthur left the lab, the sky was overcast, and he guessed the sun was near setting. The engine of one of the cars in the small parking lot was already running, waiting, a silver Prius. Arthur began to walk past, caught sight of the arm resting on the driver's door over the retracted window – cigarette trailing smoke over a black-nailed hand, black studded wrist-band.

Arthur doubled back, slipping between the Prius and a small blue Camero to open the passenger side door before Merlin could notice his approach and hit the auto-lock. He stepped into the foot-well, seated himself, and shut the door behind him. Brassy jazz filled the small space; he recognized Duke Ellington's "Solitude."

"What the hell," Merlin said, tiredly and with no real heat. He angled his body into the corner between driver's seat and door, not-quite facing Arthur. A pair of black sunglasses hid his eyes, his expression, despite the lack of sunlight in the dying day.

"I think you and I might have got off on the wrong foot," Arthur said, forcing cheerfulness.

"You think?" Merlin lifted his cigarette to his mouth, again with the curious three-fingered grip, his hand tented over the smoke.

"There's no reason we can't be friends," Arthur said. Merlin turned his head to exhale through the open window – the digital readout on the vehicle's satellite radio flickered, catching Arthur's attention. _In my solitude, you taunt me, with memories that never die_… changed to _What's forever for… where's the glory in living_…

Arthur continued, "After all, we're both interns in Camelot this summer."

Merlin snorted smoke. "You think that makes us anything alike?" he said. "Your dad's CEO." Scorn filled each word. _Ah, the prince of the realm… how long have you been training to be a prat, my lord…_

Arthur bit off a retort, remembering what Gaius had said about Merlin's father – six years, this time, better than before…but still not _enough_. He opened his mouth, reconsidered, then said deliberately, "So what does _your_ dad do, then?"

No reaction. "Army grunt," Merlin said shortly, his gaze focused out the window.

"And you're living with your grandfather for the summer? For the internship?"

The satellite radio flickered again, hissed out a sudden angry rash of static. Merlin flinched away from the window as a figure loomed, bent to lean on one forearm propped on the car roof.

"Merlin," Leon said with contained pleasure, reaching his other hand in to shake Merlin's shoulder gently. "It's good to see you again."

Merlin was stiff under the former knight's hand. "Yeah – again – whatever," he muttered. "And you are –"

Leon ducked slightly to send Arthur a confused-concerned frown. Arthur shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, and Leon retreated into cool professionalism.

"Leon Tweed; I work for Mr. Drake. Welcome to Camelot."

"Yeah, well – Dr. Gus will be coming out any minute – I'm waiting to drive him home." It was a clear dismissal, and the irony of the situation made Arthur want to laugh, if it wasn't so damn annoying…and important.

"Well. All right." He reached for the door handle. So that's how _that_ felt.

"Dr. Gus?" Leon was saying. Merlin ignored him, and Leon straightened to catch Arthur's eye as he turned to shut the passenger door.

"Gaius," Arthur said, but quietly, so Merlin didn't hear. He pointed a finger at Merlin through the roof of the Prius. "His grandfather."

He circled the vehicle to join Leon, who stepped back with a quiet, "See you around, Merlin." Leon gestured to the headquarters across the road and behind a stand of trees. "Car's still parked over there," he said to Arthur, and began to lead him away through the lot. Leon cleared his throat, "I have something for you." He took a slip of yellow paper from his pocket – a sticky-note folded on itself. "So Guinevere – Gwen – is in Camelot, too."

Arthur snatched the note, a silly grin spreading in spite of himself.

"I met her as she was leaving," Leon continued. "Said she couldn't wait, she promised a friend she'd babysit this evening." He gave his former sovereign an amused half-smile. "She pretended to be upset with you – said you hadn't even asked for her number."

Arthur groaned. "I should've thought of that!" He pried open the sticky note to see a ten-digit number in her handwriting, followed by a drawn heart and signed simply, "Gwen." He reached into his pocket for his smart-phone.

Leon made a noncommittal noise. "Arthur," he said then, his voice turning serious. "What's the matter with Merlin?"

Arthur's hand paused in his pocket. He kicked at a pebble and missed. "He doesn't remember," he said.

Leon's lips twitched, but his tone was characteristically deferential. "I take it he's been treating you with more disrespect than usual?"

Arthur snorted. It was true that Merlin had never stood on protocol with his prince – or his king. But… now there was an _edge_. "He's not the same," he said lamely.

"I'm sure he'll remember you, given time," Leon said. He glanced up and down the road as they reached the drive entrance to the lab, held Arthur back by his sleeve as a yellow Pennzoil truck thundered past.

"I don't think he even _likes_ me," Arthur said, and immediately scoffed at himself, _Don't be such a _girl_, Arthur_.

Leon chuckled. "I heard what happened when the two of you met in Camelot – the first time."

Arthur couldn't help a snicker, but quickly sobered, remembering a more recent – if 1500 years ago could be called _recent_ – conversation.

_I almost took your head off with a mace… and I stopped you – using magic… I should've killed you then…well, I'm glad you didn't…_

They never did give themselves an easy time of it.

"Give him a chance," Leon added, "he'll come around."

And Arthur was nothing if not stubborn.


	3. The Round Table

**A/N: Even though Uther Pendragon is back, since he has chosen not to accept his dream-memory identity, I continue to refer to him as Thomas Drake, rather than Uther. Merlin, though he doesn't (won't?) remember, has gained his own name back as a nickname, and will continue to be known as Merlin. However he will continue to use the modern names of the other characters when he speaks to them. If there's any confusion, I can provide a cast list. **

**Also, to those wondering about updates, I intend (key word, here) to provide another chapter every 3-4 days. Of course, life happens, and this is December. **** As soon as I write it, and type it up, you'll have it. Approximating 10-12 chapters, at this point… thanks to those who'll take this journey with me!**

Chapter 3 – The Round Table

The next morning, Arthur woke to an authoritative knock on his bedroom door. Disoriented, he bolted up, fumbling at his bedside table for a pitcher or something to throw as soon as he saw Merlin's grinning face. His fingers bumped his smart-phone into the blue-lit face of his digital alarm clock, bringing him back to the present, and reminding him of his long late conversation with Gwen… and the fact that the alarm hadn't woken him for work.

For the second day of his internship at Camelot Industries.

"Arthur, are you up yet?" His father's voice was impatient. "Leon is waiting to drive us to Camelot in half an hour."

Arthur left the bed with a quiet groan. "Yes, I'm up," he raised his voice to answer. "Half an hour – I'll be ready."

He showered, shaved, and dressed … and made it to the kitchen downstairs in time to grab a Nutri-Grain bar and fill a travel mug with black coffee on his way through. His father was just getting into the Bentley when Arthur slammed the house door on the beep of the security alarm resetting itself.

Thomas Drake gave his adult son a look of disappointment and distaste as they settled themselves in for the drive – he didn't approve of food in his car. Or of the cross-body messenger bag Arthur chose to carry.

"I gave you that attaché case for your birthday for a reason, Arthur," Thomas Drake said. "I intended you to use it."

"Yes, father," Arthur said lamely – he hated that case. It made him look old, it made him look - stuffy. Like a – like a prat, actually.

"We will be having some visitors this morning." Thomas checked his Rolex. "At nine-thirty. We have been in negotiations for a Department of Defense contract for some months, now, and are finally ready to present our product proposal. If the proposal is accepted, we will receive a liaison employee to facilitate communication with the DoD during the development of the project, and to ensure security."

Thomas turned his head to skewer his son with a commanding look. "Your presence in this meeting is to gain experience – you will watch and listen and learn – no more. Is that understood?"

Arthur felt like a child, like a rebellious child. Seen but not heard. "Yes, father," he said, somewhat stonily.

"Very good." Arthur's father placed his own attaché case on his knees, unclipped the latches, and opened it to display his laptop. A blue screen swam into focus before flashing several programs open – documents, correspondence, and at least one set of blueprints that Arthur saw before he turned away to respect his father's privacy.

Upon arriving at Camelot Technologies, Thomas Drake left Arthur in the lobby, instructing him to orient himself with the department of his internship, and to meet him in the third-floor boardroom no later than nine-twenty.

Patty and Gwen, at the receptionists' desk, had both stood respectfully at the CEO's entrance, but Thomas Drake did not so much as glance at them. Arthur held his breath, watching his father cross the golden rising-sun insignia on the lobby floor and ascend the grand staircase til he was out of sight beyond the second-floor turn.

The phone system warbled to announce an incoming call, and Patty answered, turning away.

Gwen, wearing a jewel-toned flowered blouse and light blue pants, wasn't smiling. "He didn't even look at me – he didn't even blink," she marveled as Arthur leaned on the high ledge of the desk beside her.

He shook his head. "He refused to remember a long time ago," he said, and thought of Merlin with a twinge. "Have you seen Merlin?" he said.

She shook her head, handing him a white envelope with his name typed on the front. "Maybe he comes in the back," she said, then glanced at Patty to make sure she was intent on her phone call. "He doesn't have his own extension – I looked – so I can't call him, either."

Arthur opened the envelope – photo ID, proclaiming him an employee of Camelot Technologies, and a thicker gray card that was embossed with the logo "Camelot Security". "Gwen – if you do see him – don't expect too much."

"What do you mean?" she said, confused, but dropped down into her chair as the phone chimed a warning of another incoming call.

"He doesn't remember," Arthur whispered.

Her hand froze over the blinking light of the phone system for an instant, then her training took over. She pressed the button and spoke into the mouth-piece of her headset, "Good morning, Camelot Technologies…"

"Lunch date," Arthur hissed.

She nodded and continued in a monotone, "This is Gwen… how may I direct your call?"

The director of the A.S.S. department was a short thick man named Hans, a couple of decades older than Arthur, with fat hands and a German accent. He informed Arthur that he was to work one day a week in each department on the first floor, and the next week to work in the departments on the second floor. Thus, the shared office was mostly for show, and the internship made Arthur little more than a glorified errand boy. If Hans was expecting a spoiled-CEO's son-pouting-tantrum, he was disappointed.

Arthur thought it hilariously ironic that his duties in Camelot resembled Merlin's job in the original version so closely. _And_, one day out of every two weeks he'd be in the IT department all day. That should be interesting.

At quarter after nine, Arthur cut Hans' German grumbling short. "I'm sorry – I have to attend a meeting with my father – don't expect I'll be back here til this afternoon."

"You return ready to work," Hans called after him. "These documents will not scan themselves, you know."

Arthur took the main staircase because it brought him through the lobby and past Gwen – though she was busy, she gave him an irresistible, pink-cheeked smile, her chocolate brown eyes on him as she spoke to a caller on her headset. He turned at the landing and grinned to find hr still watching him – and today, instead of looking away in confusion or embarrassment, she tossed her head in a saucy way that made him laugh out loud as he turned the corner to continue on to the third floor.

He slowed and stopped at the head of the stair as the echoes of the phone system were interrupted by the voices of several men. He listened as Patty welcomed then, directed them to sign in to the visitor's log, and promised that someone would arrive shortly to guide them to their meeting.

A moment later, Mary passed him in a flash, wearing a dark blue skirt with a ruffled yellow blouse beneath the jacket. "Your father is waiting!" she reminded him, descending to greet and guide the visitors back up to the third-floor boardroom for the meeting.

The boardroom was just down the hall, at the front of the building, commanding an excellent view of the metal sculpture on the front lawn. Arthur lingered, curious. Mary was flanked by two older men, with military-style haircuts, wearing class-blue formal uniforms, complete with gold braid and ribbon-bars and shiny black shoes.

Behind them came a taller figure, broad-shouldered in digital-camo uniform, hardy tan combat boots, his light brown hair shaved to a centimeter or so of bristle on his head, carrying a large sage-green case with ease. Arthur grinned, suddenly light-hearted. Maybe this meeting wouldn't be so bad, after all.

He waited until Mary and the two senior officers were almost upon him, then said, "Good morning – welcome to Camelot." They nodded, distracted, but the tall man's shaved head snapped up, broad grin splitting his square-jawed face.

Percival, Arthur noted, did not look surprised, having already passed Gwen in the lobby – and hopefully recognizing her, but his reaction to Arthur's presence was a good indication of that – but pleased and relieved.

"I'm Arthur Drake," he said, reaching out his right hand.

"Arthur." Percival's voice trembled just slightly, as if he was working hard not to laugh out loud. He tossed the case to his left hand as though it were weightless, and clasped Arthur's hand tightly. "My name is Lieutenant Peter Spiers."

Arthur looked at the narrow strip velcroed to the top of the breast pocket of Percival's uniform jacket, the rank insignia over the flap hiding the jacket's zipper.

"Shall I call you Lieutenant, or Spiers?" he said, baiting the bigger man out of sheer good spirits. "Lt. Spiers? Or Peter?"

"_Percival_ is fine – _sire_," Percival returned, his eyes twinkling.

"Arthur!" Thomas Drake's voice echoed peremptorily down the hall, and Arthur turned to precede Percival into the boardroom.

He was late, it appeared, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Around a large oval table – round table, he thought, and almost laughed out loud – several men were seated, behind laptops and coffee mugs and lined-paper tablets, and name placards. Glancing at these, he noticed representatives from engineering, planning, materials management, and the legal departments. His own place was near the "foot" of the oval table, almost directly opposite his father at the far end. Three empty seats remained to his left, quickly taken by the military men – though the two senior officers were seated first, Percival managed to gain the chair next to Arthur, busying himself with unpacking the meeting paraphernalia for them. A large square screen was pulled down over the birch-wood paneling at the far end of the room. Mary was at the windows, pulling strings to close the blinds.

"It's been a long time," Arthur dared to say to his friend and former knight, under cover of the rustling noises of everyone settling in for the meeting.

"It's good to see you again," Percival returned.

The marketing department's delegate stood, inserting a disc into a laptop positioned next to a black rectangular projector. Mary positioned herself by the light switch, next to the phone on the wall, as Thomas began by welcoming the guests and introducing the meeting attendees.

Percival kicked Arthur's shoe gently. "Your father doesn't remember me?" he murmured, leaning closer to Arthur.

Arthur caught his father's swift warning glance, and idly picked up the tablet and ballpoint pen placed in front of his seat. He wrote_, If my father ever dreamed of Camelot when he was a boy, he's forgotten it all now, _This_ Camelot is his life_. He laid the tablet on the tabletop, turned it slightly. Percival read the note, nodded minutely.

At the head of the room, the marketing rep was punching the laptop's keyboard, while the projector showed nothing but blue. Thomas Drake drummed his fingers in impatient irritation, obviously frustrated with the equipment's refusal to cooperate. Mary reached to help the marketing guy.

"What's the matter?" asked the right-hand blue-uniformed officer. "Why isn't it working?"

Thomas spoke to Mary, who stepped to the phone and punched buttons, lifting the receiver and turning her back to speak quietly to someone on the other end.

"Is there a secondary password, Mike?" Thomas asked.

"No – the presentation should be set to run," the marketer protested, hovering impotently. "We could upload the date to another disc, but that might take some time – it's a lot of material, sir…"

A quiet knock sounded at the door, and Mary opened it wide enough to admit one person. One tall, skinny person.

"Is that Merlin?" Percival whispered, leaning forward.

Arthur nodded, kept the former knight from raising his hand in greeting to the one-time servant. At the back of the room, with all attention focused on the recalcitrant projector system, Percival frowned at Arthur, not understanding why he couldn't greet the king's manservant with a wordless salute, at least.

"This _boy_?" Thomas Drake said, surprised and displeased.

In the silent room, everyone could hear Mary, embarrassed but trying to soothe Thomas' pride, "He is the IT intern – they wouldn't have sent him if they didn't think he could handle it."

Merlin spoke up, his voice entirely expressionless, "There's a server down in engineering. Steve and Carol will be occupied for another quarter-hour at least."

Arthur stood, intending to speak up for Merlin. But Merlin made a not-quite-arrogant, questioning motion toward the laptop, and Thomas stepped out of his way, conceding the point with poor grace, turning away from the assembly to speak to Mary in an undertone.

Merlin leaned over the table, the angles of his face lit in the dim room by the laptop screen's light. Arthur sat; beside him, Percival chuckled.

Merlin turned slightly to adjust the projector, and as his eyes flicked back to the screen in front of them, Arthur could have sworn that the blue of his eyes was briefly obscured by a _golden_ flicker.

On the wall, the projector screen showed a menu page, with a pattern of icons waiting to be chosen. Merlin straightened – Arthur recognized the odd look on his face as the one he wore when trying to decide whether to mention one of his "funny feelings."

"You've fixed the problem?" Thomas Drake said imperiously. "Then, you may go."

There was a brief, breathless pause when Arthur imagined – remembered – his former servant bowing at the waist and murmuring respectfully, "Yes, my lord." Then Merlin turned and left the room without a word.

Mike from marketing aimed the remote clicker, and the screen flickered to life.

Percival grabbed the notepad and the pen, scribbled, _So you're working for your father's company – Camelot?!_ and slid it over to Arthur.

He scrawled back, _Summer internship. You?_

_Recruited out of high school here in DC. Went green to gold this spring. Set to liaison with Camelot for this project_.

Arthur read the words as Percival finished writing them, then turned his attention back to the presentation to catch the gist – specialized drones. Hm. He'd wielded his sword at the forefront of brutal face-to-face warfare. The idea of fighting via remote control held little interest for him. He glanced down the page to read Percival's last two-word question.

_Who else?_

He grinned and took the pen. _Merlin's an intern in IT, and Gwen's a temp receptionist – you saw her, right?_ He glanced over to see Percival's shorn head nod briefly. Arthur continued, _Gaius is head of Camelot's laboratory, across the street. And Leon is my father's driver and bodyguard_.

Percival read Arthur's note, snorted out an audible, "Ha!", coughing self-consciously to cover the impolite sound. They both glanced up to make sure neither of Percival's officer or Thomas Drake were giving them undue attention, and Percival wrote one word at the bottom of the page.

_Why?_

Arthur sighed. He'd been captain of his neighborhood pick-up baseball team in grade school, of the football team at his prep school, of the Brown chapter of the fencing league.

He was – _was_ – king. But this was the 21st century. He sighed again, hoping he was ready for whatever was coming, hoping he was still an adequate leader.

A memory spoke to him, so clearly he straightened and looked up to see if Merlin hadn't come back into the room _– you're going to be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen…_

Damn it. He missed Merlin. Memories could only take him so far.

Especially when the man in the memories had been only a servant – okay, a _friend_ – even if a sometimes overwhelmingly loyal friend… knowing now that Merlin had been Emrys also, he wondered what it would feel like to have a powerful sorcerer say to his face_, I believe in you – you can do it_.

It was a humbling thought.

He took up the pen and began to scribe question marks behind Percival's question, until the bigger man reached over and stilled the pen with one hand. Then he patted Arthur's hand reassuringly, confidently.

_I believe in you – you can do it._

_It's not a mistake, it's not a coincidence, it's not for nothing._

_Sire, I hate to say this, but… you may not have much time._

"Well, I believe our time here has been well spent," said the officer next to Percival, loudly enough to make both king and knight jump like inattentive schoolchildren.

Mary flicked the lights back on. "I'm pleased you feel this way," Thomas Drake said. "I hope we continue to share similar views as the project progresses towards prototype testing."

"We look forward to hearing from you as soon as the test phase becomes feasible," the officer returned.

"Thank you all for your efforts," Thomas Drake said to the room at large, nodding his head to dismiss the meeting. As the others began to shuffle together the materials they'd brought with them, Thomas Drake came around the side of the table where the three military representatives were readying themselves for departure. Arthur stood as they did.

"Gentlemen, this is my son, Arthur Drake," Thomas said. "Arthur, I'm appointing you my personal, though unofficial, representative for this project. You will be in close contact with Lt. Spiers, and give me daily progress reports. Lieutenant, you may bring any questions or concerns you have to Arthur's attention."

Arthur nodded. Percival said, "Sir," smartly and respectfully.

"Well, Mr. Drake, we are already impressed with your promised product," the second officer said, "your facility here, and your – family. As eager as we are for Lt. Spiers to join forces with Camelot, unfortunately we require him to drive the government vehicle we arrived in. But rest assured, he will return in the morning – Lt. Spiers has his own POV he'll be using. Now, we have a long drive ahead of us, back up to Fort Meade."

The two officers moved out of the boardroom, making idle conversation with Thomas Drake about how far it was from Camelot headquarters in Alexandria, VA, to Fort George Meade in Maryland, and which route was the most advisable at that hour. They declined his father's invitation to join them for the noon meal before they left the area, and he bid them farewell at the head of the main staircase.

Arthur thought that all they needed were the statues and red ceremonial capes.

"Mary, I need to see you in my office, please," Thomas Drake said. "Arthur, would you see the officers out?"

"My pleasure," Arthur said. "Gentlemen, this way." He glanced over his shoulder at Percival, towering over the other two as he followed them down the stairs, hoping for a quick word alone before the three officers left Camelot.

They reached the foot of the staircase and crossed the lobby. Arthur nodded in response to Gwen's little wave, saw her switch her gaze to Percival behind him, and wave again. Arthur held the heavy glass door open for the two older officers to pass through.

"Arthur!" He looked up to see Leon entering the lobby from the After-Sales Service side of the building. Percival turned also, and Arthur chuckled at the happy surprise on Leon's face – almost as good as finding his friends again was seeing them reunite with each other. The two knights shook hands heartily, Leon whacking Percival's shoulder with his free hand for good measure.

"Look at you," Leon said. "Stars and stripes." He flicked Percival's rank insignia. "I'm surprised they could find ACU's to fit you."

Percival laughed. "We grow 'em big in the army," he stated with a twinkle. "This is a size medium." Aware that he had two ranking officers waiting for him, he moved to pass through the open door, and Arthur and Leon followed.

The two older men stood in conversation next to a white Ford four-door in the central visitors' lot, so the three younger men paused on the sidewalk in front of the building.

"We need to get together and talk," Arthur said. "Go out for a beer, or something."

"I have something I need to tell you," Percival said slowly. "This may not be the time or place, but – Lancelot –"

"Oi!" came a shout from behind Arthur. "Hello, ladies!"

All three spun and said at the same time, "Gwaine!"

It was, indeed, Gwaine, dressed conservatively in a blue button-down shirt and khaki pants. His dark hair was still full, though several inches shorter than he'd worn it in the past, the beard neatly trimmed, the grin irrepressible and brimming with fun, as always.

"I have been waiting my _whole_ life for this!" he proclaimed, punching Percival's shoulder, shaking Leon's hand, and giving Arthur a mock-bow and a murmured, "princess."

"Where the hell did you come from?" Arthur exclaimed, delighted in spite of himself.

"Oh, I've been waiting to get in Camelot for years," Gwaine said, waving one hand airily. "I saw your father in a press conference on TV when I was a freshman in high school, and I just _knew_ you were back!" He jabbed Arthur's shoulder for emphasis.

"Why'd you wait so long to come?" Leon asked, reasonably.

"Had to wait for a job opening, didn't I?" Gwaine said. "Your father doesn't bestow jobs right and left like knighthoods, does he, princess? Had to build up some qualifications, first."

"Qualifications!" Percival scoffed.

"Hey, three years on Fairfax County PD," Gwaine said. "That ain't easy."

A shrill whistle caught their attention – the two older officers were watching, clearly and impatiently waiting for Percival.

"I have to go," he said, stepping off the curb.

"Wait – Percival," Arthur said. "You were about to say something about Lancelot."

"Is he here, too?" Gwaine exclaimed eagerly, and Leon shushed him.

Percival's face had lost its smile. "We were in basic together," he said. "Then Afghanistan. Ran our Humvee right over an IED."

The late spring sun, almost directly overhead, beat down on them. In the trees ringing the parking lot, a bird twittered.

"He saved my life, but…" Percival said. "Lancelot's dead." He met each of their eyes, then gave Arthur a little bow. "Til tomorrow, sire."

"Gee-damn," Gwaine said blankly. Leon took a deep breath and let it out in a quiet sigh.

"Why?" Arthur said out loud to the parking lot. Percival folded himself into the driver's seat of the white Ford. The engine started, the car reversed from its parking space, then drove forward to the road, turned, and disappeared from view.

"_Why_?" Arthur repeated again, turning back to the two remaining knights.

He froze. Behind them stood Gwen, silent, two tears trickling down her cheeks. At Arthur's look, Leon and Gwaine turned – one to grip her shoulder in a show of comfort, the other to exclaim cheerfully and give her an embrace so exuberant her black high-heeled boots left the sidewalk.

"Let's – leave that story for another time," Leon suggested.

Gwen nodded, laughing through her tears at something Gwaine murmured in her ear. "It's noon," she informed them, and her dark eyes found Arthur's – she was so beautiful, even when she was sad. "I believe I was promised a lunch date."

Gwaine let out a wolf whistle, and Leon said, "Well, of course, my lady."

"You two can join us," Gwen added. "Can't they, Arthur?"

"Of course _not_," Arthur said with the full weight of his kingly authority. "What have times come to when my knights can't even get their own dates."

Leon chuckled, unperturbed, holding the glass door of the lobby open for them.

"I'll have you know, mate, that I am never lacking for female companionship," Gwaine said emphatically. "Nor for a range of alcohol –"

"Pipe down," Arthur ordered sternly as they entered the lobby. "You're here for a job interview, remember?"

Patty, behind the desk, smiled and instructed Gwaine to sign in, handing him a visitor's badge on a red lanyard, which he promptly draped around his neck. "I'm here for an interview at one o'clock," he told her, giving her his characteristic devilish grin.

"Ah, yes," Patty said, running her finger down a clipboard on the desk. "Mr. Gavin Kraft. Shall I call up and let HR know you are here early?"

"No need, Patty," Arthur said.

Leon repeated, behind him, "_Gavin Kraft_?" and Arthur saw Gwaine struggling with himself not to punch his former comrade-in-arms.

Arthur gave Patty his best charming smile, as she watched the newcomer uncertainly. "I will take responsibility for Mr. Kraft for now, and have him to HR for the interview at one."

"Yes, Mr. Drake," she said automatically.

Gwaine kept quiet until they'd left the lobby for the cubicle jungle, heading for the back of the building and the break-room.

"Yes, Mr. Drake," he mimicked Patty, and guffawed, too loudly for the office atmosphere – both Leon and Gwen shushed him again.

Arthur turned abruptly, an Gwaine had to stop to avoid running into him. "Mind your manners, _Gavin_," Arthur said sternly, yet couldn't help smiling at the same time. He was relieved both Percival and Gwaine had come back so themselves. "You're not hired _yet_."

That quieted the boisterous former knight, at least until they'd each collected lunch – Gwen had packed a brown bag again, but the men were forced to select sandwiches and snacks from the vending machines. Arthur sat at Gwen's side, across from the other two, as Gwaine and Gwen chatted about Allen's – Elyan's – station in San Diego, her plans to join him for the 4th of July holiday. Leon listened and smiled, eating his sandwich quietly.

As before, there were a few others in the break-room, the two overweight ladies sitting to eat at the next table, two microwaves humming, Aiden from marketing collecting a soda that bumped down to the retrieval compartment of the vending machine.

Gwaine and Percival, Arthur mused. And Lancelot… what did it mean?

Gwaine was telling them how his mother had been convinced he was experimenting with drugs when he told her about his dreams of battling monsters and enemy armies with a sword. And then he'd seen Uther Pendragon – Thomas Drake – on television, describing the latest innovation at Camelot Technologies. Thereafter, he'd kept the dreams to himself, waiting his chance to "join the court at Camelot", as he put it.

Arthur wished Gaius were there – he wanted to ask, why Lancelot? Why would he die before meeting any of them but Percival? What reason could there possibly be for _that_? Or if not Gaius, then at least Merlin.

Merlin – another mystery. Everyone else had remembered – even Arthur's father had remembered long enough to name his son after a legendary king, and his business after that famous kingdom, though he had long denied any and all true memories of such.

Arthur's attention was caught from his musings by a sweet yet piercing whistle coming down the hallway, out of sight from their table in the far corner. It was a familiar tune, and he tried to place it as he absently watched Roberta from HR shut a mini-pizza into the toaster oven on the counter across the room.

Beside him, Gwen turned away from Gwaine trying to provoke Leon with a joke to say to him, "Moon River – I love this song." She began to sing along in a whisper, "Oh, dream-maker, you heart-breaker…Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way… Two drifters, off to see the world… There's such a lot of world to see… We're after the same rainbow's end… waitin' round the bend…"

Somehow, Arthur was not surprised when Merlin sauntered into view.

"Look, there he is," Gwen said excitedly. Arthur put a cautionary hand on her arm.

The whistling ceased as his former servant crossed the break-room, but no one else took much notice. Merlin opened the fridge on the end.

"What? Who? Where?" Gwaine said, twisting around in his folding chair.

Merlin straightened, popping open a black-and-green bottle of Monster energy drink, letting the fridge close behind him.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted happily across the room, waving and scraping his chair back to stand. "Mate!"

Chaos erupted.

Overhead, two of the fluorescent light panels fickered wildly, then stayed dark. The toaster oven sparked once, twice, then burst into flames. Roberta screamed, backing away from the burning appliance – Aiden leaped up, causing his chair to fold on itself and clatter to the floor, the two overweight women called frantically to Roberta, to each other.

Gwaine rushed to pull Roberta to a safe distance, while Leon retrieved a fire extinguisher from under the sink and used it calmly, without having to double-check the instructions.

The fire put out, Roberta burst into hysterical tears, comforted awkwardly by Gwaine, and more suitably by her female coworkers. Leon let the extinguisher swing down by his side, eyeing the blackened toaster oven as if unconvinced of its surrender.

"Oh, dear, what a mess," Gwen said, leaving Arthur's side to join in the efforts to clean and reorganize the break-room counter.

And Arthur wasn't truly surprised to find that Merlin had vanished. He just wished he had been quick enough to catch the expression on his friend's face…whatever it had been.

**A/N: Usually I reorganize my chapters when the whole story is done, but updating each chapter as its written kind of prevents that. So I'm sorry if some chapters are long and some are short… c'est la vie. Or c'est l'ecriture, as the case may be…**


	4. A Time for Truth

**Thanks to everyone who took the time and effort to send a PM or review – updates ASAP! **

Chapter 4: A Time for Truth

The afternoon dragged. Outside, an early summer rain dripped down through the leaves. Inside, Arthur fed page after page into the scanner set upon his desk – technical specs, equipment manual updates, inspection reports, saving each scrap electronically to the correct file. Ye gods, what boredom. Hans spoke not a word.

_Not even a brass joke_, Arthur reflected darkly.

At five-clock Arthur met Gwen in the lobby, with an overwhelming sense of relief

"How was your afternoon?" she asked. Arthur groaned, and she gave him a wry, sympathetic smile. "You never did like paperwork."

He chuckled, feeling some of the tension drain from his shoulders. "And no chance of a training session with the knights…" he quipped.

Her eyes twinkled. "Or a hunting trip, either. Speaking of knights, Gwaine said his interview went well. HR told him he'll know by the weekend if they want him to start Monday."

"Good," Arthur said. Actually, he'd be surprised if Gwaine wasn't hired for Camelot Security. He ushered her through the first set of doors, where they would still be protected from the rain, but be able to speak with more privacy. "What are you doing tonight?" he said.

"What about the no-dating policy?" she asked playfully, removing her hand from his as two other employees passed them on their way out.

"I'm only an intern," he teased, "and you're only a temp." He leaned closer, "And besides –" Behind them, the door to the lobby opened again.

"Arthur," Leon said, and he turned. "Your father had a last-minute scheduling change." The former knight hesitated, then glanced at Gwen and smiled. "I don't suppose it will be an insurmountable problem for you to find a ride home?"

Arthur raised his eyes at his wife – his new girlfriend? – and gave her his most charming smile. "Guinevere?"

She shook her head at him. "Of course, Arthur. You have but to ask."

He followed her to a little blue Mazda, declined her offer to let him drive. She turned the key in the ignition, then paused.

"A minute ago, you said, 'besides'," she said. "Besides, what?"

Arthur said, with open honesty that came harder for him than casual mild sarcasm – except with Gwen – "I waited years to tell you I love you," Arthur said. "I don't want to waste whatever time we have together, now."

"Arthur," she said hesitantly, "this time is different. We're different. I love you, too, but –"

"There's no need to rush," he said. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you again – everything that's the same, and everything that's not."

She looked relieved, then shifted into reverse. "You wanted to see Gaius, right?"

"You never said what your plans were, tonight," Arthur said.

She shrugged, smiling.

The rain began to fall in earnest as Gwen pulled out of the parking lot, and she flicked the windshield wipers on, though they were only crossing the street to the lab. Arthur watched her, and thought of the arrogant prince – the _prat_ – who'd commandeered the only bed, leaving this beautiful, remarkable woman to sleep on some sacking in a back corner of her own house without a second's consideration.

This time, he thought, she'd benefit from the consideration she'd helped to teach him so long ago.

Gaius greeted Gwen with enthusiasm, taking both her hands in his and telling her with heartfelt pleasure, "So good to see you, my dear, you are as lovely as ever. Come, sit." Gaius and Arthur remained standing, Gaius with his back to the window, and Arthur fiddling with the chunk of cloudy green glass by the bookshelf. "I'm glad you came, both of you," the old man continued. "Did you speak to Merlin today?"

Gwen shook her head. Arthur said, "Yesterday when I left here - I tried, Gaius. He doesn't have the time of day for me." It was disconcerting to think that he couldn't simply order Merlin to talk to him, this time.

"He finds it difficult to trust," Gaius stated simply.

Arthur let out a single, incredulous laugh. "He finds it difficult to trust? He lied to all of us for years, Gaius – even you, I suspect – tell me if I'm wrong?"

"Merlin – is a very private person, all evidence to the contrary aside," Gaius said. "Concern and appreciation, these are things every person wants and enjoys. But Merlin has the heart of a protector. Many times he neglected to tell the truth – the whole truth – out of a desire to spare us all the worry of knowing the true levels of danger or pain or anxiety he found himself experiencing."

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen sighed. Arthur said nothing, thinking uneasily of how many times he'd mocked… or underestimated…

"Indeed," Gaius said. "Hunith was a very generous and loving woman, and imparted these traits to her son. I believe his nature is essentially unchanged. However," he paused, then sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"However –" Arthur prompted.  
"Last night I requested copies of his juvenile file from the state of Washington," Gaius said, "so I would know exactly what we're dealing with." He indicated a blue folder at one side of his desk. "And his medical files," he added.

"A juvenile file?" Gwen said, confused. Arthur reached to take the file.

"Sire," Gaius said. Though the old man hadn't moved, his tone was full of caution. "The secrets Merlin kept from you were never mine to tell, especially where it concerned his safety in regards to his magic. But now – now you both know more than he does, about who he is. You both love him. But remember – he will thank none of us for knowing or sharing any information beyond what he himself volunteers."

"We just want to help him, Gaius," Gwen said.

"I know," Gaius said. "The more you understand, the better. Only, keep in mind – I am to blame for everything in that file."

Arthur touched the blue cover, then seated himself at Gaius' desk and opened it. Right on top was the official notice of Merlin's father's death. Sergeant William Caroban, Iraq, '01.

"What do you mean, you are to blame," Gwen asked. "Surely not, Gaius."

"When I was a child, I dreamed," Gaius confessed. "I dreamed a lifetime of memories in the course of a few months. As I matured into a young man, the dreams – faded, and I was left facing two truths about myself – one was my deep and abiding interest in science. The other was a desire to make a difference in the lives of the general populace, medically speaking."

Arthur turned the KIA notice over, and found a copy of a police report from the Seattle PD. Officers and emergency medical personnel had responded to multiple 911 calls from an apartment building, though no one spoke on the line. First on the scene found mother and older son DOA, evidence suggesting a break-in interrupted. Second son, Marvin Caroban, discovered apparently unharmed in his bedroom, but nonresponsive.

Gwen's voice broke through. "So Merlin's mother was your daughter?"

"Yes – Helen," Gaius said. "I did not recognize her for Hunith, and she never mentioned any dreams while she was growing up. By then, my own dreams were as good a forgotten. She married a soldier, and they moved several times. My own wife lost her battle with cancer when my grandsons were very young, and I… started traveling."

Arthur flipped through several sheets, detailing discharge paperwork for the young survivor – two days after the murder – the adoption request from Commander Jones. Tucked behind that were half a dozen creased sheets of notebook paper – Merlin's childhood notes to the grandfather who'd given him into the care of a family. He looked at the scrawled, misspelled words, and passed over those pages.

"In Merlin's twelfth year, I received a court notice asking if I wished to challenge the Jones family for custody," Gaius said. "I wish now that I had. If I'd only known –"

Arthur found the signed statement from the Jones', relinquishing custody back to the state, citing Merlin's unmanageable disposition. _Unmanageable_ – he wanted to smile, he had always found Merlin unmanageable – but for the cold uncertainty of what was considered unmanageable for a twelve-year-old, and what attempts had been made to "manage" him. He noticed that several pages were missing from the numbered printout. Gaius was still not telling him the whole truth.

"My letters were returned, with short notes stating that due to my rejection of my grandson's custody, correspondence was no longer welcome." Arthur was aware of Gwen standing, putting her arms around the old physician's shoulders. "I should have gone to him immediately – I should have taken him in _then_."

Arthur flipped through the last pages in the folder, growing more and more despondent. Three months with this foster family, six months with the next, two weeks, seven months, three days – three days? Teenagers, he supposed, were never easy to deal with, especially someone else's teenagers, but three days? His last family he'd been with for ten months, long enough to graduate high school – Arthur was mildly surprised at the 3.8 GPA – and turn 18.

"Two weeks ago I received a voicemail message at home," Gaius finished. "My grandson Marvin was at a nearby bus station, if I wanted to see him. Of course I went – and there he was – my boy, my Merlin. Still too thin, still in need of a haircut…" the old man laughed, and Gwen chuckled with him, though they both had tears in their eyes. Arthur could imagine what a shock it was for the old man. "He had a change of clothes, a few books, and his own cobbled-together laptop in his bag. And such a deep darkness in his eyes."

Embarrassed at the show of emotion, Arthur dropped his eyes to the last sheet in the folder. Another Seattle PD document – a juvenile arrest report. Arthur scanned it – two charges of shoplifting, one of vandalism, an arrest for hacking the city of Seattle's database with charges dropped. Merlin had a rap sheet? Arthur thought incredulously.

"This is a juvie sheet," he said aloud. "How did you get this?"

"Juvenile records are indeed sealed," Gaius said, "however, I do have a friend who owed me a favor, and since I am the boy's remaining blood relative, I was given a copy."

Gwen's eyes showed her surprise – a juvenile record. "What happened after you met him at the bus station?" she said, a little faintly, as if she wasn't paying full attention.

"He – was under the impression that I didn't care for him, didn't want him," Gaius said.

Gwen said, "Oh, _Gaius_."

"He wanted to see me in person, ask me why." Gaius' brows drew down behind the dark rims of his glasses. "I confessed my assumption that he had remained with the Jones family, and that the request for severance of correspondence came from _him_." The old man took a deep breath. "I brought him home with me, of course – though he protested, I suspect he had no clear alternative in mind. I made sure of a job here for him. I – _remembered_. All of it, everything that had been but a dim familiarity when I met Thomas Drake – so shockingly _clear_. And Merlin – he remained a stranger."

Arthur saw that whatever culpability the old man held for Merlin's past, he had paid with interest in sorrow and emotional suffering since Merlin had come to D.C. He cleared his throat, intending to comfort his old friend, but found he didn't know quite what to say.

"Why didn't his family keep him?" Gwen said softly.

_Why didn't any of them keep him_, Arthur thought heatedly.

Gaius sighed. "My best guess, Guinevere – my hope – is that he did in fact experience dreams of his own at that time. Though it may have resulted in his abandonment by his family, our task will be simply to encourage him to remember what he has already seen, and to accept it. Amnesia – of sorts – will be much easier to combat than pure ignorance."

Arthur leaned back in Gaius' chair, slapping the folder shut. "Percival and Gwaine arrived today," he informed the old physician, who gave him an aha! look, before quirking one eyebrow as if to say, _this is relevant because_…

"Gwaine said he saw my father on television in his early teens, and therefore knew to believe his dreams as truth," Arthur continued. "Percival said he was in basic training with Lancelot."

"Lancelot," Gaius said, looking at Gwen.

"He was killed in Afghanistan – an IED in the road," Arthur said. "Percival didn't say much else."

Gaius straightened, crossed the room, then turned to face them. "That would seem to support our theory about secondary corroboration strengthening the acceptance of the truth," he said. "Merlin was alone when he dreamed his memories – and with the reaction of the Jones family inferred from the return of their adopted son to the state's care, he probably had more than enough reason to suppress his memories."

Arthur said, "I had Leon, Gwen and Elyan had each other, Percival and Lancelot…"

"Gwaine had the television," Gwen added, with humor.

"That explains also why my father refused to consider that my dreams might be true," Arthur said. "And why you forgot as well, until you met him, and saw Merlin again."

"You may be right, sire," Gaius allowed.

"So – it's just a matter of time before he comes around," Arthur said. "The more he's around us, the more he'll remember, right?" Foster care and rap sheet notwithstanding, he could have his cheerful, irreverent friend back in a matter of days, couldn't he?

"Sire," Gaius said, again cautious. "These memories, these events – you know yourself that they were not all – pleasant. Not all easy, not all light – not all happy."

Arthur nodded. Yes, he'd had dreams of fighting, of pain, of loss – of betrayal. Of mistakes. "What are you saying, Gaius?"

"Well, it seems to me an arguable notion that Merlin's dreams may well have been the darkest of all," the old man said. "He hid his tears well, you know. He hid the weight of his destiny, the anxiety of protecting you weighed against the repercussions of exposing his magic. For every memory you had of a danger faced, a battle fought, a foe overcome…"

"Good lord, Merlin," Gwen said blankly. "Can you imagine, all of that – all we know about is bad enough – coming down on a twelve-year-old _child_?"

_Unmanageable_, Arthur thought. They must have thought he was going mad. He must have thought he was going mad. And on top of the loss of his family, the ones who would have loved and supported him through it, no matter what…

"I don't mean to say merely that it will be difficult for him to remember, although that will surely be the case, if we are able to accomplish it at all," Gaius went on. "I mean to say – perhaps your father refused his memories because of certain horrific incidents in his war against magic users. Merlin may well also _refuse_ to accept who he is. The mind does strange things, after all, in the attempt to protect itself. And I shudder to think what it will mean for all of us, if he remains oblivious to the truth."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked.

"King Arthur has returned," Gaius said somberly, gesturing at Arthur. "It was prophesied that his return would be at a time of great need. Since we no longer reside in Albion, it may be assumed that the threat you returned to face may be more – global. Without Merlin – the greatest sorcerer of all time…"

The room was deathly still. Arthur refused the attempt to figure out what threat he might be required to face – first things first. Merlin.

"Does he have magic this time?" Gwen said softly.

Gaius looked at Arthur, one eyebrow raised. "Perhaps," he allowed. "But if so, it is – uncontrolled. Unconscious, even. When Merlin came to Camelot – the first time – his power was raw, untaught, but undeniably strong – instinctive. The things he did were not random, but intentional – and almost always done to help or defend those around him. Right now he is not capable of even a small percentage of the power he had at his command – before."

Arthur dropped his gaze down to the folder, his heart aching at the thought of what his friend had suffered – had lost. His fingers idly flipped the bottom outside corners of the pages. "What's missing, Gaius?" he said. Merlin had lived through disbelief before, had handled knowledge and responsibility alone, before. There must be something else that contributed to his elective amnesia.

"I beg your pardon, sire?" The old man inclined his head respectfully, but Arthur was willing to bet Gaius knew exactly what he was talking about.

"There are pages missing," Arthur said. "You mentioned - medical records?"

The old physician's face remained impassive. "I'm still studying those myself, my lord. I want to fit each incident into a timeline before I draw any conclusions."

"_Each_ incident?" Gwen said, one hand at her mouth.

"Nothing serious," Gaius claimed. "An accident here and there."

Gwen was relieved. Arthur was not. If it was as simple a matter as that, the old physician would not have removed the pages from his report. But he knew – from long experience – that he would have no luck pushing Gaius with questions until the old man was ready to give his conclusions.

"When?" Arthur said.

"Saturday morning," the old man promised. He reached for a small square tablet and scrawled on it, ripping off the sheet to hand the address to Arthur, who stood. "Breakfast?"

"I'll be there," Arthur said.

Outside, it was still raining steadily, though not yet dark, due to the longer summertime hours. Arthur noticed the silver Prius, Gaius' car, he expected, remembering Merlin's unannounced arrival at the bus stop. But it was empty. He glanced around, while Gwen hurried to enter her car, but didn't see his friend anywhere.  
"What are we going to do?" Gwen said, starting the engine of her blue Mazda once again.

"Well, we could go for Chinese," Arthur said. "I know this great place not far from here."

She whacked his shoulder. "About Merlin."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know. It's _Merlin_, after all – he's always difficult."

Gwen pulled out of the parking lot and turned north. "He did always manage to get himself into trouble," she lamented. "But at such a young age – and without his magic –"

Arthur remembered _he's a wizard with computers_… the flash of gold in Merlin's eyes… the exploding toaster oven… "I'll keep an eye on him," he said.

"But it's different this time, Arthur," Gwen argued. "You can't just order him… he's eighteen, and this is America. He could quit Camelot, he could leave Gaius –"

"Gwen – pull over," Arthur said sharply.

They'd just passed a rain-drenched figure slogging along the shoulder of the road – a tall, skinny figure with shoulders hunched against the pervasive wet, hands in his pockets, sodden black hair thick about his face and collar.

Gwen's face showed her confusion, but she obeyed.

"It's _him_," Arthur told her, checking the side mirror, twisting in the passenger seat to look out the rear window.

"Is he walking home in the rain?" Gwen said, turning to look also.

"Maybe he got tired of waiting for Gaius," Arthur said, opening his door and standing up on the gravel of the shoulder.

A car flew past, spraying water from the road. Merlin stopped walking, peered at him suspiciously as rain dripped in his face.

"Get your butt over here," Arthur called to him, "and in out of the rain."

Merlin looked beyond them, back the way he'd come, as if searching for a viable alternative, then slowly approached, taking his hands from his pockets to grip the strap of the messenger bag crossed over his chest. The black of his t-shirt stood out ridiculously through the thin white material of his long-sleeved dress-shirt. He bent to see Gwen in the driver's seat.

She managed a little wave. "Hello, Merlin," she said, and her voice shook.

"Are you kidding me?" Merlin said sarcastically to Arthur. "You want me to be third wheel on your date?"

"Oh, it's not - exactly – " Gwen fumbled, embarrassed.

"Come on, don't be an idiot," Arthur said. "You're soaked through – get in the car." He opened the back door. Merlin still hesitated, watching him warily, then slid into Gwen's back seat, slouching, and rubbed the wet hair out of his face. Arthur slammed the back door shut before getting in also.

"Are you cold?" Gwen said solicitously, her hand hovering over the controls of her car's air system.

"I'm fine," he said to her, giving her a faint echo of the wide irreverent grin they remembered.

""Do you live far from here, Merlin?" Gwen said, checking her mirrors before pulling back onto the road. "I'm Gwen, by the way.'

"My grandfather has a townhouse in Old Town Commons," Merlin said. "That's about five miles past Landmark Mall."

They drove in silence for several minutes. Arthur found himself wavering between the emotions of anger and amusement – how long had it been since he'd sat in a small enclosed space with Merlin, without having to tell him to _shut up_, at least twice a minute? Answer: 1500 years. This Merlin evidently felt no need to fill the silence with inane chatter.

And Arthur missed it.

Gwen, to judge by her expression, was uncomfortable, scared, and excited. She glanced over at Arthur as if expecting him to know what to say.

Well, I don't. I don't know what to say.

"So, Merlin," Gwen said brightly, at last. "I hear you're spending the summer with your grandfather."

"My life," Merlin said expressionlessly, "is an open book."

Gwen shot Arthur a please-rescue-me look. "Won't you miss your family?" she tried. "Won't your parents miss you?"

Arthur froze, not daring to look at his former queen. She _knew_. Why would she say –

"My parents died a long time ago," said Merlin, glacially calm, as if imparting facts completely unrelated to his own life.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gwen said, her distress evident and genuine.

Merlin shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"What happened?" Arthur asked. Maybe it was a step in the right direction – Merlin hadn't mentioned his father's death yesterday when Arthur had asked.

Merlin turned his head to gaze out the side window. "Car accident," he said casually.

Arthur resisted the urge to turn all the way around in the seat, as Gwen shot him another look. Had it always been that easy for Merlin to lie?

Then he remembered what Gaius had said – withholding the truth to protect others. An active-duty death and a robbery-turned-double homicide _were_ much more horrific to tell. Arthur just wished Merlin _wouldn't_ try to protect him from the truth… and yet, he himself had already decided not to tell Gwen and the knights many of the details he'd learned from Gaius' file on Merlin – wasn't that almost the same thing? The same thing as Gaius telling Gwen that Merlin's medical files bespoke a handful of accidents?

Gwen braked smoothly in response to a yellow light, preparing to stop and wait.

"Do you have other family, then?" Arthur said. "Who did you grow up with?"

There was a near-silent click, so quiet and fast Arthur almost missed it, then music blared from the car's speakers, so loudly that Gwen jumped, and the car jumped, stopped abruptly as she hit the brake.

_THINK OF AUGUST WHEN THE TREES WERE GREEN/ DON'T THINK ABOUT THE WAY THINGS MIGHT HAVE BEEN…_

"Sorry!" Gwen yelled, twisting the volume dial, to no avail.

_THINK OF ME, THINK OF ME WAITING SILENT AND RESIGNED/ IMAGINE ME TRYING TOO HARD TO PUT YOU FROM MY MIND…_

"Let me do this," Arthur commanded, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "You keep your eyes on the road." He pushed a button with the power symbol on it.

_THINK OF ME PLEASE SAY YOU'LL THINK OF ME WHATEVER ELSE YOU CHOOSE TO DO…_

A horn honked behind them, interrupting the song. "Green light," Arthur hollered.

_THERE WILL NEVER BE A DAY WHEN I DON'T THINK OF YOU!_

"I've got it – just go," Arthur said, pushing other buttons, twisting the volume dial. There was silence for a single instant, then music poured forth again, and he realized he'd just forwarded to the next song on Gwen's cd.

I ONLY WISH I KNEW YOUR SECRET… HERE IN THIS ROOM HE CALLS ME SOFTLY, SOMEWHERE INSIDE HIDING…

"I'm sorry!" Gwen called again, and the volume decreased rapidly in response to Arthur's manipulation. "It's never done that, before." She gave a shaky laugh. "Phantom of the Opera at full volume, huh?"

Arthur had his suspicions, but was willing to let it go. "Hey," he said to Gwen, "pull in here."

"Landmark Mall?" she asked, but followed his directions.

His idea was completely on the spur of the moment. That, and he didn't want to let Merlin leave their company, yet. "There's a Sprint store in the mall," he said. "I want to pay my phone bill."

"Uh – and my dry clothes are right around the corner," Merlin protested with the tone of voice that said he believed Arthur was being an utterly selfish _prat_.

Gwen found a parking space near the mall entrance. "Come on in with me," Arthur invited, looking at her.

Her chocolate brown eyes searched his, and trusted. "Okay," she said, removing her key and unbuckling her seat belt.

"Am I supposed to wait here, or walk home?" Merlin said.

"Or just come inside," Arthur said, exaggerating the obvious good sense of the suggestion. Merlin crossed his arms over his chest, his clothes still plastered wetly to his thin frame. His hair dripped, and he glared at Arthur.

Arthur got out of Gwen's blue Mazda, and opened the back door. "Oh, come on, _Mer_lin," he goaded cheerfully. "Don't be such a _girl_."

Merlin unfolded himself swiftly and defiantly from the seat. "Don't be such an _ass_," he shot back. "Okay, let's get this over with."


	5. The Kindness of Friends

**A/N Okay, I know I put "adventure" as part of the description, it's just taking me longer than I thought to get to those parts… my 'set up' is becoming more complicated… thanks for bearing with me.**

**Sorry for a longish chapter full of bits and pieces – but leaving any of them out didn't feel right to me…**

Chapter 5 – The Kindness of Friends

Arthur held Gwen's hand as they sauntered down the length of the mall – just another young couple, together and in love – he was having the time of his life. Almost.

Behind them, Merlin's boots squeaked on the tile floor with every step, and Arthur found a momentary perverse pleasure in the strange looks other shoppers directed toward his friend.

"What are you doing?" Gwen said softly.

"An experiment," Arthur said. At her quizzical look, he rolled his eyes. "Gwen – I'm trying to make friends. You know my father is not going to assign him to me as my personal servant, this time." She chuckled.

Even if it used to grate on his nerves, he rather missed Merlin's insane loyalty, his persistent company.

"Here we go," he added, detouring all three of them into one of the stores. Abercrombie – perfect.

"What are we doing in here?" Gwen said, looking around – but mostly toward the female clothing displayed to the right half of the store.

"Can pay your phone bill in _here_," Merlin murmured snidely.

"Well, Merlin is soaking wet," Arthur announced, heading for the nearest shelf of jeans, next to an array of t-shirts. "What's your size, mate?" His friend stared at him blankly. Arthur said, "Here," and flung some clothing to him. The jeans hit him in the chest, unfolded as they dropped to the floor. Arthur said, "I think my _dog_ can catch better than that."

A bewildered look crept into Merlin's eyes. "I don't need _new_ clothes, I need _dry_ clothes."

Arthur swept his arms wide to indicate the entire store. "Look, Merlin," he said, as though explaining to a kindergartener, "_dry_ clothes."

"I can't –" Merlin caught the t-shirt Arthur chucked as it fell away from his face. "I don't get paid til Friday."

"Think of it as a bonus," Arthur said. "Come on – get going. You'll catch cold standing there under the air conditioning."

Merlin said, "It's not like _you_ care," but lifted the jeans to his hand with one foot, and headed to the changing stalls at the back of the store, turning once to give Arthur another strange look.

"That was very nice of you," Gwen said, taking Arthur's arm.

"I get the feeling," Arthur said, "the guy could stand to have someone be nice to him."

"Mm hm," Gwen said, trailing off to sort through a discount rack.

Arthur requested an empty plastic bag from the cashier, a gum-popping little girl with a green stripe in her ponytail, and stopped outside the door of Merlin's changing stall. "Hand me your wet stuff, I'll put it in a bag," he said, and his friend shoved the clothing out under the gap between door and floor with one large foot. "Okay," Arthur continued, pushing the soggy articles into the bag. "Now give me the tags."

The door opened. Merlin's eyes were narrowed, suspicious, his mouth tight. "Why are you doing this?" he said.

A memory hit, like the thrust of a sword with all the anger and hurt of betrayal behind it_. I do this because of who you are_… Arthur took a deep breath to steady his voice, and said, "I do this because you're my friend." _And I don't want to lose you…_

Merlin's suspicious look didn't change. "I don't have friends," he said, and Arthur wondered if he meant, _I've never had friends_.

Arthur reached out to snap the bar-coded price tag off the collar of the t-shirt, and Merlin flinched as though expecting Arthur's touch to hurt. Arthur showed him the tag. "You do now – come on."

Clothing paid for, Gwen's compliments accepted with embarrassment, the three headed down the mall's main thoroughfare. Gwen trailed her hand along the safety railing keeping patrons from plummeting down to the first floor. They turned a corner and came out onto a large central area where the first floor was open through the second all the way up to the roof.

"There's the Sprint store," Gwen told Arthur, pointing. "And – oh, I want to go in there." She indicated a girly little shop, with jewelry and scarves and things crammed onto wall displays and spinning racks.

"Ok, we can meet at this bench, after," Arthur said. "Don't get lost, Merlin."

His friends sent him an irritated blue-eyed glare, and straddled the backless bench, slouching forward over his possessions – the wet clothes in the Abercrombie bag, and his messenger bag. Arthur went into the Sprint store, watching through the window as Merlin slipped a beat-up laptop from the bag and opened it on the bench between his knees.

"How may I help you, sir?" the clerk said to Arthur.

"I'd like to pay my bill," Arthur answered, and gave him the number of his cell phone, taking it out to text Gaius that Merlin was with them, so he wouldn't worry. He glanced up again – Merlin wasn't paying attention to his computer screen, but seemed to be watching something or someone down on the first level. After a moment of concentration and a flurry of typing, he stood, balancing the computer on the safety rail as he looked over.

"Shall we use the credit card number we already have on file for this account?" the clerk questioned, and Arthur waved him to go ahead, his curiosity piqued by his friend on the walkway outside. "All done, then, sir, would you like a receipt or your confirmation number?"

"No, thanks." Arthur left the store and approached Merlin from behind. He didn't understand what he saw on the screen, lines of code or something, but followed his friend's gaze down to the first floor.

A casually-dressed young man was working a small crowd at a booth selling remote-controlled helicopters, calling out his sales spiel as he manipulated the miniature aircraft upwards toward the ceiling, spinning it around and allowing it to drop back down – right toward two teenaged girls, who squealed and ducked, before it rose again with a whir of its motors.

Merlin's black-nailed hand moved over his keyboard.

The helicopter shot straight up toward the rain-streaked glass of the ceiling, accompanied by gasps from the people. Arthur watched the sophisticated toy zip around in a large circle, before descending in a slowly-tightening spiral. It dropped several feet to hover before a preschool-aged boy, who laughed as it darted and lunged like a dragonfly, staying always out of the boy's reach. Then it returned to the airspace in front of the two girls, where it pivoted to face away from them, then proceeded to wave its tail rotors provocatively back and forth, drawing giggles and shrieks from them.

Beside Arthur, Merlin laughed softly. Arthur glanced over, caught a gleam of _gold_ – and looked sharply at the booth minder. The young man alternated between watching his craft, shocked and mesmerized, and furiously working the control he held in his hand.

Merlin chuckled again, and the aircraft zipped through the air to begin looping the seller, around and around at increasing speed, always threatening but never touching a single person, or the display of stacked models.

"What are you _doing_?" Arthur said.

"That signal," Merlin murmured, "is _distinctly_ easy to override."

Arthur felt his mouth drop open. "_You're_ controlling that thing?"

Merlin glanced at him and grinned – a genuine, carefree, _goofy_ Merlin grin, and turned back to the performance.

Arthur bumped his shoulder, careless of the effect on the tiny chopper, scolding, "Merlin!" He caught another flash of gold as Merlin spared him another mischievous glance, before a second helicopter from the display rose to join the first – the booth tender jumped like he was shot, nervously and desperately fumbling with his now-useless controls.

Merlin's fingers, Arthur noted, were simply waving about the touchpad of the laptop, not actually making contact. The two helicopters jumped and frolicked like mating finches, twirling and buzzing, chasing and stopping and flitting away again. The small crowd had grown, and the second-floor railing was lined with people laughing and pointing.

"What's going on?" Gwen said from behind them.

Merlin slammed the laptop closed, and the two toys dropped to land gently at the relieved seller's feet. "Nothing," Merlin said innocently, and bent to slide his computer bag into his bag.

Arthur continued to watch as the rest of the spectators erupted in spontaneous applause – and many approached the booth to inspect the merchandise displayed.

"He's going to sell quite a lot of those," Arthur observed to Merlin.

His friend's face was expressionless, though a twinkle of humor danced in his eyes. "Good for him," he said neutrally.

"Did I miss something?" Gwen asked. "Arthur?...Well, are you two hungry? The smell of those pretzels is driving me crazy, and the food court is down this way…" She took Arthur's arm, and Merlin again followed them.

Arthur shook himself mentally. That was _magic_, he was sure of it. That guy might sell dozens of those mini-helicopters off that demonstration. And once again, Merlin didn't even think of claiming credit, but preferred to go unnoticed.

Arthur treated Gwen to a plateful of buffet-style Chinese, regretting the paper plate and plastic-ware, while Merlin stood in another line for Burger King. Arthur supposed it was probably to keep him from spending more money on Merlin – the line was longer, and Merlin still waiting when Arthur and Gwen chose a table.

"Arthur – this is so _weird_," Gwen said. "I mean, I'm used to all this modern stuff, we both are, we grew up here, but it's weird seeing everyone from Camelot so comfortable here, too."

"I'll tell you what's weird – _that's_ weird." Arthur pointed to the little blonde girl working the Burger King register – and clearly flirting with Merlin. Who was clearly taking it in stride, as though perfectly comfortable with a pretty female coming on to him.

"Oh, Arthur, stop it," Gwen chided. "You know what I mean."

He shrugged. "We'll get used to it."

She studied him, twirling her fork in lo mein. "You're - different," she said. "You had _so much_ depending on you, before," she continued softly. "A kingdom." _I remember._ "But now…" She tipped her head to one side.

"Now just the fate of the free world," he said, only half-joking. "No – I know what you mean," he added. "My father did have – high expectations of me, growing up – but not like before." Growing up a prince, he'd rarely met anyone his equal in rank – in a prep school, in an Ivy League school, there were plenty of others with as much money and power – and many with more. A school full of teenage boys behaving to each other – and to him – like arrogant prats. Merlin would have loved it – _Merlin_. He'd probably gone to public school – several public schools.

Arthur lifted his head and looked around, seeing his friend seated alone at a small table some distance away. Flashes of memory, countless banquets where Merlin stood quietly behind Arthur's seat, waiting to serve. More than one picnic, Merlin loaded down with cushions and rugs and blankets and more food than they could all eat in two days. He'd complained – vociferously – but cheerfully, performing all that was asked of him willingly, even if Arthur gave deliberately superfluous orders.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" He raised his voice.

Merlin froze mid-bite, glanced around as if seeking the answer. " 'M eating," he mumbled.

Arthur kicked out the chair beside him. "There are _four_ chairs here, Merlin," he said. "If we'd meant to leave you out, we could have chosen a table with _two_ chairs."

Merlin looked at Gwen, who smiled and beckoned. "Come on," she said.

"Speaking of my father," Arthur said as Merlin sprawled in the seat and leaned over his tray, bony elbows firmly planted on the table. "During this morning's meeting, Merlin, there was something you almost said to him."

"Yeah – jackass," Merlin mumbled around a mouthful of burger.

Gwen tried to hide her smile. Arthur stuck his finger in Merlin's face, resisting the urge to laugh. "Watch it – that's my father. I'm being serious. What were you thinking about that glitch with the projector?"

Merlin looked him right in the eyes for three seconds. "Nothing," he said, in the same innocent tone he'd used to lie to Gwen.

"Uh-huh," Arthur said, agreeing in a way that left no doubt of his disbelief. Well, they'd have to discuss it later.

The rain had mostly stopped by the time Gwen parked her car at the curb in front of Gaius' townhouse.

"Thanks for the ride," Merlin mumbled to Gwen, escaping from the back seat like they'd been holding him prisoner, and galloping up the steps to the front door.

Arthur stepped out of the car to call over, "Hey, Merlin – some guys from work are getting together Friday night – you want to come?"

Merlin paused, hand on the doorknob, staring at Arthur, then ducked his head in a stiff, awkward nod.

From inside the car, Gwen said, "Arthur, remind him not to leave his wet clothes in that bag – they'll get moldy."

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted again, and when his friend turned, he pointed at the plastic Abercrombie sack in his hand. "Make sure you wash that stuff right away."

His friend's smirk was obvious even from that distance. "I know how to do laundry."

Arthur laughed. Of course he did – how many years did he manage his king's laundry, after all? "See you, Merlin," he called.

Both Arthur and Gwen were quiet as she drove him back to his house. It had been, he reflected, an exhausting day. Hopefully they'd made some progress. Hopefully they'd make more before global tragedy struck.

"Its just right here," he told Gwen. "Pull close enough to the side here to reach the code box – it's 11-15."

Gwen obeyed, and the iron gate blocking the driveway shuddered to life, cranking open to admit the car. "Arthur – _wow_," she said, gazing up at the three-story brick home, slowly rolling into the carport. "I _still_ feel like Cinderella," she said, sounding not entirely happy.

"Gwen," he said, waiting until she met his eyes. "It's _really_ not all it's cracked up to be," he said, referring to a second childhood raised in luxury. He saw in her eyes the remembrance that he'd grown up without his mother – again – and her own vivid experience of how difficult his father could be. He put one finger under her chin and leaned forward to kiss her.

How many lovers, he wondered dreamily, had the privilege of a second first kiss? It was familiarity and the love of trusted years and the patience of deferred longing, blended with the tentative sweetness of novelty and the spark of first connection.

Tears spilled out of her eyes as he moved away. "Please don't, Guinevere," he whispered, wiping them away with his fingers. "It will be all right."

She nodded, steadying herself with a deep breath. "I have to go," she said shakily.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised, and placed another kiss on her forehead before getting out and shutting the door, watching the blue Mazda wind down the drive and exit the gate.

The next day Arthur found himself assigned to the regional office, whose manager decided that Arthur's time was best spent traveling through eastern Virginia, meeting clients and performing follow-up calls to make sure installed technology was working to everyone's satisfaction. Dave, Arthur's partner for the day, was just the opposite of Hans – gregarious and crazy for his country music.

Arthur spent much of the driving time on his cell phone, texting Gwen to collect cell numbers and addresses from Percival and Gwaine, networking them all together with Leon and Gaius. He knew where he wanted to take Gwen for dinner the next night, but was undecided on a good place for them to meet Merlin.

**Murphy's pub**, Gwaine suggested.

**Hes 18**, Gwen texted back.

**Fast eddie's billiard café**, was Gwaine's next suggestion.

Percival's contribution was responsible for five minutes of cellular silence. **Can I bring my wife?**

**!? **from Gwaine. **Yes**, Arthur texted. **Who? How?** from Gwen.

"You're quite the social butterfly," Dave joked.

"Making the most of my time," Arthur said.

**HS swthrt**, Percival responded. **Posted bragg out of a.i.t. She came along.**

**Kids?** wrote Leon. **Not yet**. Arthur laughed out loud. Dave rolled his eyes.

They returned to Camelot at half past six; all of Arthur's friends had already left for the day. Arthur slung his bag into the passenger side of his own vehicle, a white '64 Mustang, and drove himself home.

Friday Arthur spent buried in Accounting. His tired and burning eyes were much soothed by the sight of Gwen waiting on her front porch in dark jeans and a creamy sleeveless top that simultaneously complimented her skin tone and clung to her curves. He leaped from the Mustang to open her door for her.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," he told her sincerely, and inhaled her scent as she leaned to kiss his cheek.

Dinner at Bertucci's was nice. They were seated opposite the brick oven, which was nice on a warm summer night. The drank sangria together with grilled chicken marsala, and just talked, like two old friends catching up on each other's lives. He was glad to hear that both her parents were still alive, and she laughed to hear him describe his difficulties mastering the foil in his fencing lessons.

"Horseback riding, no problem – they told me I was a natural," Arthur said. "Fencing – I'm King Arthur, right? I mean, I was basically born with a sword in my hand. But that – doesn't help you with fencing. It's _completely_ different."

She laughed, dark eyes gleaming with contented amusement. "I talked to Elyan yesterday," she said. "He used all his vacation time earlier this year when our great-aunt passed away." She waved the explanation away as irrelevant. "Anyway, next week he's deployed to sea duty for six months. He can't come here unless he goes AWOL."

"No," Arthur said. "He swore an oath. If it turns out we absolutely need him, we'll figure something out."

Gwen checked her watch – a dainty silver thing – and said, "We've got half an hour to meet the knights at Fast Eddie's before Merlin comes at ten-thirty. He _is_ coming, right?"

"He knows where and when," Arthur said, signaling for the check. "The rest is up to him."

Arthur and Gwen were the last ones to Fast Eddie's. The three knights were already there, halfway into their first round of beers, supplemented by chips and salsa. A tall, leggy brunette sat under one of Percival's big arms, evidently giving as good as she got to Gwaine on Percival's other side. All three men leaned back, roaring with laughter at whatever she said, as Arthur and Gwen made their way to their table.

"What's so funny?" Gwen said.

"Gwen, this is my wife Kathryn," Percival said. "Kath, meet Gwen, and Arthur."

"Nice to meet you," the leggy brunette said. "These guys are laughing at my taste in humor. No Monty Python fans to be found."

Gwen started giggling. "You mean, Monty Python and the Holy Grail?"

Arthur said, astonished, "It was the Cup of Life, you know, not –" and the three knights started laughing again. "No, no," Arthur continued, deceptively calm. "Laugh all you want, I felt sorry for poor King Arthur, trying to focus on his quest when he was surrounded by babbling idiots."

"No Guinevere to be found," Leon agreed with false sorrow, winking at Gwen.

"I," Gwaine announced, "always thought that bridge-keeper was too tall."

"Yes, well, how about Gawain?" Percival said. "How sad, to be defeated by a killer rabbit." Gwaine punched his big friend in the shoulder, without much effect.

"With nasty big pointed teeth," Kathryn took up the joke. " 'That rabbit is dynamite!' "

Leon murmured into Arthur's ear, "Bet you wished you had that holy hand grenade of Antioch at times, didn't you, sire?"

"It would have come in handy on more than one occasion," Arthur agreed, glancing at his watch. Half an hour til Merlin showed. If he was coming at all.

Percival cleared his throat, lifting his half-full bottle of beer, and passing a newly-opened one to Arthur. "A toast, gentlemen," he said, and his voice was abruptly serious. "To Lancelot, the bravest and noblest knight of all."

"Always willing to sacrifice for his friends," Gwaine agreed.

Leon said, "Here, here." Arthur drank to the toast, passed his bottle to Gwen for her to participate.

Kathryn looked from one to the other, not sure how to take the gesture. Gwen caught Arthur's eye and immediately invited Kathryn to sit down with her in a nearby corner and order cappuccinos.

"So – sire," Leon said. Percival and Gwaine leaned in also, with serious expressions. "Merlin's coming?"

"I hope so – but before he does, there are some things you lot need to know," Arthur said. "He had a rough childhood, this time, and – Gaius thinks he _can_ remember, eventually, it'll be up to us to remind him. But for tonight, I want him to relax and find trustworthy friends, again. I don't want anyone to tell stories of old times, or ask him any questions beyond what would be appropriate when meeting someone for the first time."

"He doesn't remember?" Gwaine repeated.

"No – and he doesn't have a handle on his magic, either, so we'll all have to be careful not to –"

"Magic?" Gwaine said. "Merlin had – magic?"

Leon didn't react, but there was a thoughtful look in his eye as he considered Arthur.

"Oh," Percival said, rubbing his chin. "Right."

"Come on," Arthur said. "It can't come as a surprise, anymore. Surely you've heard – read – seen the stories. The legends. Sword in the Stone, anyone?"

"You mean," Gwaine said, pale and shocked, "that _our_ Merlin… was _the_ Merlin?" Arthur nodded.

"It makes sense," Leon said. "It fits. He'd have to be more important than just your servant, or your friend, even, to return."

A twinkle broke through Gwaine's astonishment. "Did he ever change you into a fish, your highness?"

"Shut up, Gwaine," Arthur retorted. "This is serious."

"Aren't you angry with him?" Percival asked quietly. "I mean – we all knew your father's attitude toward magic…"

"You all remember the sorcerer from Camlann?" Arthur said.

The three knights nodded, and Leon added, "We would not have won that battle, if not for him. We would not have _survived_ that battle."

"Hang on," Gwaine said, lifting one hand into the air. "That whole long-white-beard thing – that was _Merlin_? _Our_ Merlin?"

"What do you mean, your Merlin?" said a voice behind them, and they all jumped like rabbits.

Merlin stood there, hands in the pockets of jeans belted around his hips, black t-shirt with the faded logo of a winged skull across his chest. Hard, wary look in his eyes, belligerent jut to his chin.

In the corner, the juke box clicked over to a Beatles song.

Arthur recovered first. "Glad you could make it," he said to his friend. "You met Leon the other day. This is –" he stumbled a little – recognized the song as "Magical Mystery Tour" - and decided to go easy on Merlin, for tonight, "Gavin Kraft, and – Peter Spiers."

"Pete," Percival smiled, reaching to take Merlin's hand, as Gwaine smacked his shoulder in greeting.

"You want something to drink, mate?" Gwaine said. "Oh – you're underage. Coke all right, then?" He escaped toward the bar to place the order

"Over there is Gwen," Arthur continued. "And Pete's wife Kathryn." Gwen waved, spoke to the other girl, and both got up to approach the newcomer.

"Kathryn, this is Merlin," Gwen said.

"Merlin – good to know you," Kathryn said. "Another character out of that movie."

Merlin visibly relaxed in response to the brunette's warm friendliness. "What movie?" he said.

"Monty Python and the Holy Grail," Kathryn said, grinning. Gwaine returned from the bar, four bottles clutched by the neck in one hand, and a fizzing Coke in the other. "Although, they did have Tim the Enchanter – throwing fire right and left." She mimicked the character, tossing imaginary fireballs, imitating the eruption of fire with a feminine explosion sound.

Leon drew in a startled breath, while Percival tensed for whatever action became necessary. Gwaine almost dropped his liquid burden. Gwen looked at Arthur with frightened eyes.

Merlin looked at each of them in turn, motionless and startled by their reactions. He finally said, in a very dry voice, "Disappearing in a cloud of smoke and fire may be useful on-screen, but I hardly think anyone is capable of it in real life."

Gwen gave a shaky laugh. Gwaine opened his eyes wide and raised his eyebrows. Leon put his hand on Arthur's shoulder, as much to reassure himself, as Arthur.

Arthur took a deep breath, himself. "Rack 'em up, - ah, _Pete_," he said. "We came here to play some pool, didn't we?"

The rest of the evening passed almost uneventfully. Arthur was proud of his men, the way they talked to Merlin and drew him gradually out of his protective shell, in a friendly and nonthreatening manner.

At one point Arthur noticed Gwaine pointing out the eagle-and-flag tattoo Percival sported on one big forearm, then rolling up his sleeve to display what Arthur thought – from across the room, he couldn't be sure – was a bikini-clad girl in a classic pin-up pose. Merlin, lounging beside them at the table, set down his Coke and waved his hands in protest. Then he leaned over the table and peeled up one sleeve of the black t-shirt to expose a glittering gold-and-brown dragon's head curling down over the white skin and wiry muscle of his shoulder, picking up his cigarette from the tabletop ashtray as Gwaine and Percival admired the artwork.

"Leon, I must be dreaming," Arthur said, turning to lean backwards against the pool table. "What the hell is _that_?" Merlin, smoking and showing off a tattoo?

Leon, bent over the table with his stick trained on the cue ball, raised his eyes to take in the tableau, and smiled. "He seems to be enjoying himself, Arthur."

"Yes, but…" That's not Merlin, Arthur wanted to complain.

"None of us are the same, sire," Leon said.

"I know, it's just…" Arthur sighed and said no more. _I don't want you to change. I want you to always be _you_._

Later in the evening, Arthur could have sworn that Merlin switched his glass in exchange for Gwaine rum-and-Coke, the former knight complaining loudly about the inadequate ratio of alcohol to soda in his drink.

And again, Merlin demonstrating to Gwen a better way of sliding her stick through her fingers to prepare for her next shot. He turned his head to exhale his lungful of smoke away from her, and as he straightened, his attention remained on her hands, never once taking in her unintentionally provocative pose as she concentrated on lining up the balls. The other men would _know_ not to check out Guinevere's posterior – especially with their king right there – but Merlin _didn't_ know, and yet was a perfect gentleman.

Maybe the changes were only surface-deep.

Last call sounded, the rest loudly proclaiming their surprise at the lateness of the hour, they made their way to the dimly-lit parking lot.

"Anyone need a ride?" Leon called. "Gw – ah, Gavin?"

"Yeah, pro'ly," the dark-haired knight slurred.

"Come on, my soldier," Kathryn chuckled out loud, pulling Percival toward a red Silverado. "Let's get you home."

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, as he ushered Gwen toward his Mustang, one arm around her shoulders. There was no answer; he turned. Merlin stood about five steps from the door of Fast Eddie's, gazing beyond the streetlights with an oddly tense look on his face. "Merlin!" Arthur called again, opening the passenger door for Gwen.

Merlin turned his face toward Arthur, not focusing on him completely. "I rode the bus," he said distantly.

"Last bus went at 12:30," Arthur called back. Vehicle doors slammed, engines started – Percival and Kathryn in the Silverado, Leon and Gwaine in Leon's Crown Vic. Down the street, out of sight, tires squealed. Merlin took two long steps forward, turning sideways as if to see down the side street dead-ending just off from Fast Eddie's parking lot. Oncoming headlights lit him, oddly vulnerable in jeans and black t-shirt. A sudden flash, and a second set of headlights illumined him from the side. He took a wandering step forward, lifting his face as if to sunlight. Arthur thought his eyes were closed.

Light careened toward light, splashing together in the night. Merlin twisted suddenly, shock and horror on his face, his eyes gleaming golden.

"_Arthur_!" he screamed, from the very bottom of his soul.

Arthur was frozen – one set of headlights barreled out of the side street, tires squealing as the turn was taken too sharply. The vehicle skidded across lanes – as the approaching car swerved, and jumped the curb into Fast Eddie's parking lot.

Arthur ducked, lifting an arm to shield his face, utterly helpless before the four-thousand-pound chunk of metal hurtling uncontrollably toward him –

SCREEEEEEEEEEEE. Metal on concrete, skidding, sliding… stopping. Arthur looked up, confused – the turning car gunned its motor, disappeared into the darkness.

He turned his head – there was the second car, not six feet from him – on its _side_, undercarriage exposed, tires still turning, white bulge of airbags showing through the slice of window visible.

Voices shouted. Gwen cried out his name.

Arthur turned his head to see Merlin, perfectly white under the streetlight, one hand outstretched, his whole body reaching for Arthur, a good twenty feet away. Merlin straightened stiffly as he watched.

Gwen was on Arthur in a rush, Leon close behind with urgent questions for his safety. He was aware that the other knights, Kathryn, were out of their vehicles. Leon left Arthur to attempt to open the uppermost driver's-side door of the car.

Arthur stared at Merlin, who stared back.

Then Merlin dropped to his knees. His head tipped forward, as if he meant to study the pavement just in front of him. Then he collapsed.

ScrubbedCeiling – thank you for a thoughtful review! As far as 'Hans' goes, you're probably right. He's based on someone I knew, but I wanted to change the name while keeping the nationality of my friend… if it bothers anyone else, let me know, but it's a minor character… while this is my first FANfiction, I have been writing for more than a decade and I hope getting better with time…alas, actual publication is very hard to achieve.

I'm not sure if I can lay any claim at all to Merlin, being an American myself… but ancestry coming from the same area that the Saxons did… um, well, we'll not go there…. That admission goes hand-in-hand with any apology due UK readers, I'd honestly prefer the return to happen there, only I'm not familiar enough to make it believable… thus the D.C. area.


	6. The Sorcerer's Shadows

**Here's where my "T" rating comes in, for descriptions of past horrors. Not so bad as some, but bad enough…**

Chapter – The Sorcerer's Shadows

Gaius started the morning coffee brewing, while Arthur slouched on a bar stool across the counter, cradling his aching head in his hands.

His pain wasn't due to the discomfort of spending the night on Gaius' couch in the next room – actually, the beige-upholstered furniture was surprisingly comfortable. His pain was not due, either, to the small amount of alcohol imbibed at the pool hall.

It was due, entirely, to the aftermath of the pleasantly boisterous evening.

The coffee-maker bubbled and puffed softly, filling the kitchen nook of the townhouse with a rich aroma, warm as the morning sun streaming through the window. A white Scottie dog jumped up on the second bar stool beside Arthur, nametag jingling against it's collar. It eyed Arthur – Arthur eyed it back momentarily, before closing his eyes.

Against the black backdrop of his eyelids, his mind played the bizarre scenes from memory. Percival atop the overturned car, yanking the door open – upwards – and reaching in to help the driver, the sole occupant. Gwen and Kathryn clinging to each other in shock, Leon pacing, on the cell phone with an emergency response team. Gwaine hoisting Merlin up from the pavement with gentle care.

Arthur had ducked under Merlin's other arm, helped Gwaine support the limp form of their friend to the back seat of his own Mustang, arrange him for a comfort he could not feel.

Lights flashed, red and blue. The EMTs and the officers made their rounds, asking questions. No one was hurt, not even the driver. No one had actually seen the car flip, though no one questioned the curb as the agent of displacement. No one had seen the second car except Arthur, who couldn't give a very clear description of it.

Except for the car on its side, the whole scene was rather mundane, from the official point of view.

Afterwards, Percival and Kathryn had gone home. Leon had taken both Gwaine and Gwen – who protested that she wanted to accompany Arthur and Merlin, still unconscious on the back seat of the Mustang.

"What about your parents?" Arthur had reminded her. "If you don't get home tonight, what are they going to think? They'll worry. And your father will never let me take you out again."

Gwen did laugh, didn't even smile. She was worried about Merlin – they all were. But she went with Leon without further argument.

The drive from Fast Eddie's to Old Town Commons was exquisitely torturous. Merlin was completely motionless, completely silent. Arthur drove with the dome light on, and several times stopped to turn all the way around, check his friend's pulse and breathing.

Gaius' eyebrows had climbed upon finding the two of them on his doorstep at 3 in the morning, Merlin draped over Arthur's shoulder. "What happened?" the old physician demanded, with equal parts worry and resignation. Arthur described the whole scene to Gaius, as they carried Merlin upstairs, removed his shoes and jeans so he could rest in t-shirt and boxers. He left nothing out, but it wasn't quite the same story as he'd told the officers. "You think he used magic?" Gaius asked, thumbing first one, then the other of Merlin's eyelids open.

"I – didn't actually see," Arthur said. "But yes – I think so."

Gaius held Merlin's wrist for a moment, laid his hand on his grandson's chest. "For now, I think he should just rest," the physician finally concluded.

Merlin stirred, briefly. His face turned to them, and his mouth dropped open as he moaned. His eyelids fluttered. "Arthur?" he whispered hoarsely.

"I'm here, Merlin, you're all right," Arthur said.

Gaius had a better understanding of Merlin's concern. "Arthur is just fine, Merlin," he reassured his grandson, leaning over him tenderly. "You rest now. You're both safe."

"I don't want to do this," Merlin whispered, his eyes falling shut once more. "I can't do this again." There was silence for the space of an indrawn breath, then Merlin whispered his grandfather's name – not "Gaius", not "Gus", either, but a word slurred somewhere in the middle.

Gaius had motioned for Arthur to follow him and leave Merlin's room. He had paused at the doorway, glanced back in the light from the hall, at his friend's lanky sprawled limbs, untidy room – so familiar it had made his throat ache.

He found it still ached, this morning.

"Gaius, do you suppose," he began, without raising his head, "would it be – kinder, to leave him without his memories?"

Gaius sighed. "Coffee, Arthur," he said, and Arthur raised his head to accept the mug pushed under his face, fragrant steamy tendrils brushing his nose.

"Kinder – I couldn't say. But _possible_? I have my doubts – you will _need_ him. I'm afraid Destiny has never been kind to Merlin," Gaius said. "Will the addition of memories from his first life in Camelot be hard for him to bear – yes, and rightly so. He saw much and endured much that I would have spared him if I could have. But he entered his destiny willingly. He could have chosen at any point to leave Camelot – to leave you –" Gaius stopped, frowning at a memory.

Arthur said, "Tell me."

"Well, once – and only once, very early on in your service, I should add – he did intend to leave… with a girl."

That woke Arthur more swiftly than the coffee. Merlin – with a girl? "What happened?"

"She was killed," Gaius said simply. "He never stopped loving her, but – he remained in Camelot, by your side."

That explained, Arthur thought, Merlin's seeming obliviousness to the opposite gender. Loved and lost. "But this time…" he encouraged Gaius to continue.

"You know as well as I do, sire, that there are many many good memories that wait in his subconscious mind. Times of laughter and triumph, victory and light-heartedness and hope. If our Merlin never regains those memories, I believe some part of him will miss them and mourn them. Much of his pain stems from the suppression of those memories and his magic, also, I suspect. He will never feel whole, in acceptance of who he is and what he can do, without the joining of those two lives."

It was Arthur's turn to sigh. "I'd bear that burden for him, if I could."

Gaius' look was sympathetic. "I know you would, sire. And my hope is that good friends who already know and accept who he is and what he is, will make the difference." The old man took his mug in one hand, beckoned to the former king with the other. "Bearing that in mind, there is something I must show you, Arthur."

Arthur followed to the living-room – desk on one wall, couch, coffee table, armchair in the corner, tv mounted on a bookshelf against the widest wall. Gaius indicated the blue folder on the coffee table, lowering himself into the armchair.

"Do you recall the police report for the night of – the murder?" Gaius said, and Arthur nodded, remembering that the victims were Gaius' daughter and grandson. "The emergency call center received twenty-two calls from the apartment in the space of five minutes, and fifteen more in as many minutes following, even to the point of multiple lines in use at once – though no words were spoken," Gaius said. "They found Merlin unconscious but unharmed in his bedroom – he didn't wake for another two days."

"You think that was him, calling for help?" Arthur said. "His magic?"

Gaius nodded towards the folder. "I've correlated the hospital records to the dates of his transferring from one foster home to the next. Occasionally – though not always – an injury would result in the transfer."

Arthur picked up the file, began to page through. "You mean he was _abused_?" he said, horrified.

"At least once," Gaius said carefully, "though none of the accidents were simply – accidents. The interesting thing is, I could find no reports that Merlin ever was blamed for any injuries to others."

"And the once?" A page fell open, and Arthur gasped. The photo showed a smaller, skinnier Merlin, recognizable by his jutting bones and mop of black hair, welts and contusions marring the white skin of his back and legs – one mark even requiring stitches. The picture was from behind, Merlin's face unseen. Arthur wondered wrathfully what expression the boy had worn, that day.

Gaius said, in the clinically detached way he sometimes spoke of Merlin's hurt, "A belt, my lord."

The next page showed the bottom outside of a boy's leg, patches of blisters and raw open flesh crawling upwards from ankle to knee. Gaius leaned forward. "The family claimed Merlin had set the fire on purpose," he said only. "Another transfer."

"What else?" Arthur said, dropping the file on the coffee table and settling back on the couch, leaning his head against the back.

"Toes broken in a runaway lawn tractor accident," Gaius said. "Wrist broken in an altercation at school – he said he fell, but at least one anonymous call made to the school office claimed he was pushed. Each time he was moved on to another family. I think – I am afraid – well, let me put it this way. An ordinary family taking in a boy like Merlin – _extra_ordinary in a way only _we_ can begin to comprehend – but troubled with nightmares and random – occurrences, for want of a better term – even the shoplifting and vandalism charges, well, it's not quite fair to expect them to cope, do you see what I mean? Ordinary foster parents wouldn't understand what was happening, wouldn't be able to help and guide him, wouldn't even _believe_ him when he claimed innocence."

_Maybe, but – a belt?_

"He was moved, and moved again," Gaius said sadly. "Shunned and ridiculed, I imagine, though that must be the least of it…is it any wonder, really, that he has done his best to rid himself of the magic, to deny the dreams?" He pushed himself up abruptly, and returned to the kitchen.

Over the noise of Gaius shuffling and opening cupboards, Arthur didn't notice any other noises, until the bottom step creaked, and Merlin's voice said, sleepy and confused, "Dr. Gus?"

"In here, my boy," Gaius called from the kitchen. Arthur watched as Merlin – still in the black winged-skull t-shirt, and green plaid pajama pants – rubbed his eyes with his fists like a child, and shuffled into the kitchen. "How do you feel?"

"Tired." If Arthur closed his eyes, subtracted the coffee smell and added a warm-tea scent of dried herbs, he could almost imagine it was 1500 years ago, in Gaius' familiar chambers. "Have you eaten?" Merlin added.

"No, but – you don't have to –"

A pots-and-pans clatter interrupted the old man. "I don't mind," Merlin said. Arthur heard the refrigerator open and shut, the cracking of eggshells, the sizzle of breakfast frying in a pan.

Arthur stood and wandered to the doorway of the room, watched Merlin's hands – black nail polish and studded leather wrist-band – deftly scrambling eggs, while Gaius hovered, still worried about his health.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" Gaius asked.

Merlin swung around, reaching for the vertical handle of the refrigerator. His eyes connected with Arthur's – surprise, wariness, acceptance – and he bent to retrieve a carafe of orange juice.

"Did I get in a fight?" Merlin said.

"Why do you ask?" Gaius said blankly. Merlin gestured to a faint purple bruising on the side of his face, one cheekbone. In his mind's eye, Arthur watched Merlin tumble face-down in the parking lot.

"Do you get in fights often?" Arthur said, genuinely curious. The Merlin he remembered had avoided conflict like – well, like the plague, he supposed. The ten-inch tv set next to the microwave behind Merlin popped on to show a scrawny cartoon boy scrambling through a dark wood, chased by a gaunt cartoon wolf.

Merlin shrugged, hunching his shoulders as he stirred the cooking breakfast. "Whenever I can't avoid it." The radio next to the coffeepot whispered of static. The scrawny cartoon boy fell through a roof, and a blue-robed old man coughed in the dust, saying, _So you did drop in for tea after all_. Arthur met Gaius' eyes, and one eyebrow rose above the black frame of the old man's glasses.

To hide his uncontainable grin, Arthur sauntered back toward the couch, idly running his eyes over the titles printed on the spines of Gaius' books, the collection of stones and pottery and photographs of dusty villages and sharp-edged cities. The tv on the bookshelf behind him blinked into life, and he was distinctly aware of – and amused by – the cartoon that came on. Two lion cubs were singing and dancing, being chased by a grouchy, squawking bird. _Oh, I just can't wait to be king…_

_Geez, Merlin, tell me how you _really_ feel._

Merlin came in from the kitchen, plate extended to Arthur. "Your breakfast, my lord," he said caustically, shoving napkin-wrapped silverware into Arthur's other hand.

The fluffy yellow eggs were speckled with green flecks of parsley, striped with melting cheese. _Everybody look left, everybody look right, everywhere you look I'm standing in the spotlight…_ Merlin had never served such an appetizing breakfast, with so sour a face – Arthur thought he rather preferred a dry crust of bread and a wizened apple, with a cheerful "rise and shine"!

"This looks great, Merlin, thanks," Arthur said, preparing to seat himself at the couch_. No one says do this, no one says be there, no one says stop that, no one says see here! _The Scottie jumped up on the arm of the furniture, and Merlin fondled its soft ears absently, the dog leaning into the caress as if it was expected.

"You know this is a Hamlet story, right?" Merlin murmured, loitering at the other end of the couch. Arthur looked up in surprise. "Evil uncle kills king, takes over – young prince must decide whether or not to stand up to evil uncle…" His blue eyes looked lost and far away.

Arthur thought of another murdered king, another treacherous uncle, another young prince, and shivered.

"What the hell is _that_," Merlin said. Confused, Arthur glanced up, to see Merlin's eyes focused on the open file on the coffee table – printed photos of the belt marks, the burned leg.

The television screen flickered, changed to a night scene of a cityscape, burning. The caption at the bottom read _October 30 – Devil's Night_. Merlin came around the couch, reached as if to take the file, then snatched his hand away. His eyes met Arthurs guilt-filled ones with a flash of fury and – betrayal.

"What the _f_-"

"I've poured orange juice for the both of you," Gaius interrupted unwittingly, coming from the kitchen. "Merlin –"

Merlin wasn't distracted long. His eyes returned to Arthur, blazing. "You think it's funny, do you?" he spat. "Both of you?" His grandfather was now included. "When did my life become your business?" On-screen, a blood-covered woman screamed and struggled to breathe. The white Scottie jumped down from the arm of the couch and high-tailed it up the stairs and out of sight.

Gaius held up both hands to placate his grandson – holding juice glasses, the gesture was ineffective. "Merlin – it's not what you think."

"You can say _Marvin_," he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his hands under his arms. The old man jerked back as though his grandson had slapped his face. Merlin turned his attention back to Arthur, for once struck silent. The dark bruise stood out, startling on his pale skin.

_How did this morning go to hell so fast?_

"Bit of light reading, huh?" His former servant said sarcastically. "A coffee table folio? Go on, then – tell me your favorite part." Behind him, a dark-haired man crawled from wet earth in a graveyard, screaming in the agony and confusion of rebirth.

Arthur stood. 1500 years ago he'd have grabbed his friend and held on no matter what, and Merlin would have _felt_ the comfort. But this young man still looked at him as a _stranger_. His hands dangled heavily at his sides. "Merlin, I'm just trying –"

"Was it the hours spent locked in the shed on the back of the Anderson's eight-acre property in all kinds of weather? – 'Oh, I want to watch _Wife Swap_.' " He mimicked a high lady's voice. "'We can't have that kid around the remote never works when he's in the room.' Or was it the one after that - 'Our electric bill has tripled since he moved in – make him tell you what he does! Make him stop it! Well, use your belt if he won't talk!' "

The radio static fuzzed even louder. The printer on the desk whirred to life, beeping and blinking, and began churning out blank sheets of paper.

"Marvin, please calm down," Gaius called, setting down the juice on the edge of the kitchen counter.

" 'No, officer, that fire was all his fault – we won't keep a kid who's a fire-starter!' " Merlin was pacing, two steps right and two steps left, his eyes downward but unfocused. Beyond him, the television showed a massive explosion, a cop running down the street, a half-naked man stumbling barefoot and chilled and lost and alone. "Or how about – 'Teacher's pet, aren't you – break all the computers in the lab just so you can fix them again – well, fix this!' " Merlin shoved his hands in front of him as though pushing someone – and the middle shelf of books tumbled from their place. He didn't appear to notice. Red-hued flashbacks of a murder blinked on the screen.

A little voice in Arthur's head said_, it better be good for him to get this all out. A lot of hurt and anger, all bottled up – this release damn well better do some good_.

"No." Merlin stopped suddenly, pointed at Arthur as if making some great discovery. "I bet your favorite part was reading about _this_." He snapped the wristband off, displaying three jagged scars on the inside of his wrist, one long enough to show below the band, two others crossed to follow the length of a vein, instead of slicing across the network of blood vessels. Arthur dimly recalled reading that the difference between the two directions showed the intention of the attempt – a cry for help or a serious no-turning-back vein opening.

Did each line represent a separate occasion when his friend had tried to end his life? Flicker – flicker – the half-naked man watched as cuts on his hands from a broken window healed themselves, sealed themselves shut.

Merlin watched his reaction, and smiled, an empty, hollow, skeletal smile. Arthur could see that deep darkness that Gaius had mentioned before, and it was staggering to view.

"No? Still not the best part? Could it possibly be the eighteen months of psychiatric treatment, _this_ drug, then _this_ drug, then _this_ drug – the freak of Adams Middle School. The zombie."

"Merlin," Arthur said quietly, trying to salvage the situation. "I just want to help. I just want to be your –"

"Do _not_ say 'friend' to me!" Merlin roared. Tears shone brightly in sea-blue eyes. "_This_ is not what friends do!" The file on the table burst into flames, and Arthur stumbled back, not because of the proximity of danger, but from shock.

"Marvin!" Gaius cried, and Merlin rounded on him, as more than one smoke detector began to shriek a warning.

"And you – I trusted you!" His voice was hoarse. "Why did you tell him, why did you show him? I have had fourteen 'new starts' shot to hell, and guess what?" Tears spilled down Merlin's face. He took a deep breath, and the flames disappeared, leaving the air smoky and the file a charred mess. "There goes number fifteen." He stalked toward the glass sliding door that led to the backyard, furiously scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of both hands – not looking where he was going, not slowing – on the television screen, the dark-haired man punched a mirror, shards fragmenting everywhere.

"Merlin – the glass!" Arthur shouted over the wail of the smoke alarm, reaching out a hand as if he could physically pull his friend back from across the room.

Merlin flicked one hand into the air as if tossing a small object lightly aside – and stepped right through a slider-sized gap of thin air. He picked up speed as he crossed the back lawn, and vaulted over the back fence.

Arthur persuaded his feet to move, and approached the sliding glass door – he put his hand on the full-size window, solid and cool.

"Did he –" the smoke alarms cut out with a choked squawk. "Did he just walk right through this?" Arthur demanded of Gaius, slapping his palm against the glass.

"Damn, damn, damn," Gaius said. "As if I haven't done enough to him already."

Arthur turned as Gaius eased himself down into the armchair. The room was silent but for the cartoon in the kitchen – no radio static, no printer chugging away living room television black and dead. _Come on_, came from the kitchen, _we're packing to leave…books come first… _Not knowing what else to do, Arthur began to pick up the books.

"I – don't know what to say," he finally broke the silence. "Was it true about the – medication? In _middle school_?"

Gaius propped his chin on one hand. "The Jones family," he said. "I believe that was their response to his dreams."

Arthur winced, imagining doctors – adults, psychiatrists, telling Merlin the child calmly and earnestly that he was not the Merlin of the legends. Over, and over, and over… with who knows what kind of drugs in his system. Probably attributing it to the trauma he'd experienced when his family died. Probably telling him with just as much certainty that there was no such thing as magic. "And after?" he said, replacing the last book and beginning to collect the scattered papers.

Gaius heaved a sigh. "People don't believe in magic anymore," he said. "Fifteen hundred years ago, people hated and feared it – but at least they didn't deny its existence. I should have been there for him, I should have taken him and taught him – but I didn't even know it _was_ him!"

"Gaius," Arthur said, returning to the couch, "if we get started talking about what _should have_ been done for Merlin, I'm sure my list would be much longer than yours."

They both stared in silence at the blackened pages of the file – charred fragments of paper, all the information destroyed. If only, Arthur thought, it were so easy to remove the effects of those events from Merlin's life.

"Will he be okay?" Arthur asked. "He wasn't even wearing shoes."

"He'll be back," Gaius said with weary confidence, and Arthur shot him a hopeful look. The old man grimaced in response. "His computer is here."

"Should I stay?" Arthur asked. "At least, if he comes back to get his things and leave for good, I could –"

"Could you stop him?" Gaius questioned with a rueful chuckle. "I daresay none of us could stop him leaving. If that's what he decides to do."

"So we tried to take one step forward, and ended up sliding three steps back," Arthur said. "_Why_, dammit? I don't understand. Here we all are – except Elyan, except Lancelot – what good does it do for him to return, and then die so young? Was the purpose of his life only to help Percival remember?"

"Not _only_, sire," Gaius said softly. "He must have saved many lives during his active-duty service. Once again sacrificing himself so that others might live."

"But – Merlin?" Arthur questioned.

The tv from the kitchen spoke into the brief pause_, I'm a germ… a rare disease – and you caught me!_

Gaius clasped his hands together. "I told you before, Merlin's character in Camelot had much to do with his mother's influence – the generosity that needed no return, the unconditional love, even that willingness to sacrifice himself for something he believed in. You would have given your life for the betterment of your kingdom – every day Merlin gave his life for the betterment of his king."

"I _know_," Arthur said. "I know he did, but I didn't thank him til it was almost too late. I teased and I mocked and I –" he laughed bitterly. "I _rewarded_ him with extra chores!"

"This time," Gaius said hesitantly, as though trying to express a thought that had only just occurred to him, "this time, the two of you are on more equal footing. He believes nothing of Destiny. You cannot count on his loyalty to keep the two sides of the coin together – _you_ will have to do that."

_Damn it all_, Arthur thought, _I may have just thrown away my chance_.

"This time," Gaius continued, "as we have just seen, he is more ready to let his hurt and anger show, instead of hiding it away. He is – less naïve. He has seen the darkness there can be in this world. It maybe be, that he is more prepared to handle whatever Destiny has in store for you. It may be that he has traded some of his tenderness and sensitivity for a tougher skin – and it may actually help him, in the end."

"What now? He's going to hate me, just for seeing that." Arthur gestured to the burned file. "How am I supposed to gain his trust and confidence – remind him of who he is, who we were? He probably won't even talk to me."

"I don't know, sire," Gaius said. "You'll have to try, that's all I can say."

Music ghosted from the tv in the kitchen as the cartoon ended. _This boy is our king… Hail King Arthur! _

_But_, Arthur thought, _Merlin hadn't been blown to Bermuda when the sword was pulled from the stone. He was at my back. As he always was._

He thought of how Merlin had spoken to his grandfather when he thought they were alone in the house. "I won't stay," Arthur said. "Just – let me know when he comes home, and if he's okay."

"I will do so, sire," Gaius said, and rose to usher Arthur to the door.

He turned back a moment, one foot on the porch and one on the threshold. "I wonder," he said. "Merlin, and Gwen, and I are all new to Camelot, but the only thing new at Camelot is this DoD contract. Percival came as a military liaison, and Gwaine was hired as extra security because of the project."

"You think the drones may have something to do with the reason we all returned?" Gaius said.

Arthur looked at the old man, surprised. "You know about the drones?" he said.

Gaius gave him a stern look. "Confidentiality," he said. "If it becomes important for you to know, your highness, rest assured I will tell you. But know this much – the laboratory is also involved."

"It's the one thing that seems to be in common," Arthur said.

"It bears consideration," Gaius agreed. "And – Arthur. Don't despair. He saved your life last night, after all."

_Just wish he _remembered_ doing it_, Arthur thought. _And I _will_ return the favor_. _Somehow_. "I hoped Merlin's back in time for whatever's coming at us," Arthur said.

"Indeed."

**A/N: Couple disclaimers – Merlin does not belong to me, or anyone else I know.**

**Also, this fic is not meant to show foster care in a bad light. I'm almost 80% sure I'm going to be a foster parent someday. However, I do believe Merlin, because of the dreams of **_**being**_** Merlin, and because of the magic that wants so badly to come out, would have had a rough time. I don't want this read as though every family was abusive, just ignorant, and some of the injuries were, in fact, accidental. So hopefully no one finds this chapter offensive.**


	7. An Intruder in the Citadel

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! And the favorites/follows. Mentioned on a previous chapter I intended on updates every 3-4 days, whenever I actually get a new chapter written – typed – though I think it's been more of an every-other-day thing so far... I just want to say, this is the MOST I've ever written in the SHORTEST period of time… credit Merlin for the inspiration. Hopefully won't burn out too soon at this pace, and the story continues to please… ~,~**

Chapter 7: An Intruder in the Citadel

For Arthur's second week in Camelot, he was assigned to the second-floor departments, which was how he found himself seated at a spare console in the Marketing department on a Wednesday morning, tasked with familiarizing himself with the company's website and threatened with a test on it after lunch. He clicked aimlessly through the available menus, his thoughts far from Camelot Technologies.

He didn't remember driving home, Saturday morning. Beside him on the passenger seat of the Mustang, his phone trilled an incoming-message alert. Arthur had taken his hands from the steering wheel, glanced blankly around the inside of his father's garage, then picked up the phone.

**Hows Merlin this a.m.?** Leon texted.

Arthur hit reply-all, so the other knights and Gwen would also receive the answer. **Woke up tired but fine, didnt rmember car accdent. Needs some space. Gaius will keep us pstd.**

** NEthing we can do?** Came the response from Gwaine.

**Not today**. Arthur stared at the phone for a moment, then selected Gwen's speed-dial setting.

"Arthur?"

He loved that woman's voice. "Can I see you this afternoon?" he said, his voice gruff from pushing past the lump in his throat.

"Of course. Why don't you meet me at Green Spring Gardens Park at two?"

Arthur had dragged himself inside the house to shower and change and consume a single-serving microwave meal. His father walked in as he was putting the cardboard container in the trash.

"You didn't come home last night, Arthur," Thomas Drake said with heavy disapproval. "Were you with a girl?" Arthur laughed out loud, which only served to irritate his father even more. "Is it that new receptionist? I've been told that you eat lunch with her – you know the policy about interoffice dating."

"Father," Arthur said, "I did not spend the night with a girl."

The older man eyed his son with suspicion. "I hope you're not making new friendships that will prove detrimental to your position in the company."

Arthur rinsed his fork in the sink, wondering if he should tell his father that he nearly died in a car accident, and that he'd spent the night making sure the friend who had saved his life was himself going to be all right. "Of course not," he said, choosing the path of least resistance.

"I trust it will not happen again." Thomas Drake waited in vain for a verbal confirmation, nodded to himself that his wishes had been made clear, then left the room.

_That what won't happen again_, Arthur thought – _that I won't go drinking with Gwaine, that Merlin won't save my life with magic, that I won't use the night hours as well as the daytime to make sure a friend is taken care of?_ No, he could pretty much guarantee that each of those things would happen again.

He'd said nothing to Gwen of that morning's confrontation. They'd ambled hand in hand, enjoying the warm sunshine and the breeze and the smell of blooming flowers. He soaked in the precious feeling of her arms tight around his ribs, her head resting on his shoulder, her breath against his neck.

Just… just hold me.

He remembered the love that Merlin had cherished, and lost. Destiny was indeed cruel.

They'd lounged on the grass, his head pillowed on her lap. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" she said, finally.

"Merlin."

"Did you and Gaius make any progress with him?"

He snorted against the fabric of her white cargo shorts. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Her hand moved against his shoulder, rubbing comfort right through his skin and into his soul. "I'm sorry, Arthur," she said. "I know this is hardest on you –"

"No, Guinevere," he contradicted firmly. "This is hardest on Merlin… and then maybe Gaius."

"Give him time," Gwen said, with quiet confidence. "He has a lot to work through."

More than she knew. And in a clumsy but well-meant attempt to share Merlin's burden, Arthur only succeeded in adding to it. Gaius' words haunted him, _Sire – I hate to say this, but… you may not have much time…_

His phone had remained frighteningly silent through the afternoon, through the evening. At 11:30, when he'd nodded off fully clothed atop his bedspread, the cell phone on the nightstand beside him alerted him to a new message.

From Gaius. **Merlin home. Tired, hungry, sore, but staying. Won't talk. Assume work as usual Mon.**

Arthur texted back simply, **Thanks**.

Monday he hadn't seen Merlin all day – neither, he found at 5:00, had Gwen or Leon or Percival, who'd been given a desk in Project Management. Gwaine wasn't schedule to come in until 11:00 that night, his first of a 5-day a week 11pm-7am shift.

Tuesday Percival had joined Arthur and Gwen at their lunch table. "Sorry," the big man apologized as a yawn split his face for the third time.

"Up too late?" Gwen teased.

Percival smiled, running a hand over the bristle on his head. "Maybe," he acknowledged. "We live just south of Fort Meade, but the commute is still – considerable."

"The liaison for the project is temporary, right?" Gwen said. Percival nodded, and they'd fallen silent for several minutes. Whatever was coming, whatever had brought them together again, was coming in weeks, if not days. _And then what_? Arthur wondered. Would Destiny turn them loose to their own devices? Would they be free to live "normal" lives? Elyan was headed to sea in the Pacific. Percival could be posted as far away or farther, in as short a time. They'd been brought together – most of them – but how long would that last?

Carol from IT entered the break-room as he was finishing lunch with Gwen and Percival, and Carol was just entering the room. He excused himself to approach the short-haired woman.

"Merlin?" Carol said. "He was here yesterday, and he's here today. He's – been busy. Working."

Arthur caught the slight hesitation. "What's the matter with him?" he asked.

Carol looked at him, really looked, then put on a bright smile. "I'm sure he's fine," she said.

"When you look at me," Arthur said, "don't see my father's son. See Merlin's friend. What is wrong?"

"He's – he's been glued to his computer. He's doing something… but I don't know what. He won't talk about it, and when I looked, I –" she looked away. "I didn't even know what I was seeing."

Arthur remembered the charges of hacking the city of Seattle's private databases, and shivered. Percival and Gwen came up behind him. "I'll try to talk to him this afternoon," he promised.

He had been watching out for his friend, but Merlin had always been good at avoiding conversations he didn't want to have. Arthur swore he wasn't going to duck out of this one. At 4:45 Tuesday afternoon he was waiting in the hallway outside the IT department, lounging in an open doorway of an empty office. Merlin, in a deep-blue collared shirt that made Arthur's heart ache with familiarity, untucked over blue jeans and his timberland boots, stepped out. He slipped the shoulder strap of his satchel over his head, starting to lope down the hallway away from Arthur.

"Merlin ," Arthur said, straightening.

Merlin twitched, but didn't turn, and the heavy office door behind Arthur sprang forward, colliding with Arthur's right shoulder blade, knocking him into the soft cubicle wall across the hallway. When Arthur looked up, Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

"_Merlin_!" Arthur hollered irately down the hall. He reflected, then conceded, "I guess I had that coming."

He'd considered ambushing the young sorcerer at the lab when Merlin came to pick Gaius up after work, but dismissed the idea. He didn't want to risk damaging whatever fragile relationship the two had managed to cobble together. And besides, if Merlin lost his temper again, a chemical laboratory was about the worst place for that to happen.

Arthur forced his eyes to focus on the screen, on the reds and golds decorating the company's website. In his pocket, his phone vibrated, emitting a low buzz. Gwaine, the caller ID said. "Yeah?" he answered.

"Arthur – I know you're at work, so I'll make this quick. Just wanted to let you know that Perce and I abducted Merlin last night."

"What?" Arthur didn't know whether to laugh or shout.

"Oh, relax, princess. We went paintballing, and dragged him along with us. Kind of a common-boys night out." Gwaine's chuckle echoed ironically in Arthur's ear, like Gwaine was making a joke that Arthur was not in on. "Percival said he heard Merlin's been overworked lately. We didn't tell you because we thought you might be mad we didn't ask you to come. Forgiveness over permission, that kind of thing."

"How did it go?" Arthur demanded, hope springing up eternal.

"Fine. Merlin won three out of four rounds – guess we underestimated him – he's a sneaky little bas- well, anyway, Perce and I only won the fourth round because we came around a corner in this pincer movement, and he was just standing there like he was deep in thought… But that's not what you're asking, is it. We gathered that Saturday was – kind of a disaster."

Arthur heard in his tone, _way to go, princess_. "Yeah, you could say that."

"He was worried about what you might have told us… guess you had your reasons for – well, for _not_. But I wanted to let you know that we got him cooled off and calmed down. He still doesn't remember – do we have an actual plan for that? Can we knock him upside the head? Give him one of Gaius' potions?" Arthur heard the edge in the amused drawl.

"I don't know." He was tired of having to say that. "He did do a fair bit of magic Saturday…" And slogged through old memories.

"I'm sorry I missed it, then," Gwaine said jauntily.

"No, you're not."

There was a pause as Gwaine digested that, and sobered somewhat. "Just going to play it by ear, then?"

"Yeah – plan on keeping Saturday free, though Gwaine. I have to believe that the more time we spend with him, the better."

"Will do."

"Oh, and Gwaine?"

A martyr's sigh. "_Yes_, princess?"

"Thank you."

Gwaine was silent a moment, then said, in all seriousness. "Anything for Merlin, Arthur. Anything for a friend. You know that."

Arthur tucked his phone away, and glanced at the clock on the wall. 11:55 – close enough, he decided, and walked past the IT department on his way to the stairs.

From the doorway, he could see Merlin's back – a good eighteen inches away from the back of the chair, shoulders hunched over as his fingers flew over the keyboard, paused, then typed rapidly again.

"Merlin?" Arthur tried.

"I'm busy," Merlin snarled.

"I just wanted to say – I'm sorry." There – it was out, and he'd heard it. "I'm sorry for Saturday morning, for an – unforgivable breach of your privacy." Merlin straightened slowly, hands going still, but didn't turn. Arthur didn't know what else to say. The room remained silent, Merlin still facing away. "Hope I'll see you around – if you need to talk…" He'd done his best.

"Drake." Arthur turned around, as Merlin leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb, eyes on the carpet. "You didn't tell anyone." It was a statement, and a question, accompanied by a swift upward glance, a flash of blue under unruly black hair. Arthur could see hesitation, fear, shame, in his stance – but also determination. He respected that.

"No, and I'm not going to," he promised.

"Why?" Merlin frowned, but not in anger, just puzzled frustration. "I mean, why would Dr. Gus show that stuff to you – why would you…"

"Did you ask him about it?" Arthur said, and Merlin shook his head. "Look – your grandfather has worked for this company awhile now…" How to say this without lying, without telling the whole shocking truth? "He and I are something like – old friends. He's been worried about you – blames himself for what you went through…"

"Why?" The frown turned bewildered. "None of that was his fault; he didn't know."

"Well –"

"Did he ask you to be nice to me?" Merlin said, in a flash of heated ire.

"No –"

"Then why are you?" Merlin swung himself away from the doorjamb, taking two long steps to bring them very close together, meeting Arthur's eyes with intense focus. Arthur, surprised, couldn't look away – and at the same time as he searched Merlin's gaze for any indication of familiarity, recognition, he _willed_ his friend to see into his own heart, also. To trust.

"You – know me," Merlin said, taking a confused step backward again. "And you like me anyway." He said it like it was the most incongruous thing in the world. "How is that possible?"

"The knowing, or the liking?" Arthur had always found it easier to shrug off his feelings than to address them honestly and openly – and Merlin had always seemed to prefer it that way, too.

"When we met," Merlin said slowly, "you acted like I reminded you of someone you used to know."

Arthur took a deep breath. "A friend in a past life, maybe," he said casually.

Merlin took another step back. Arthur waited, holding his breath, ready for flickering lights or exploding radios. "I don't know if I can trust you," Merlin said in a low voice. "I don't know – what you'll do –" Arthur recognized the look on Merlin's face – it was strikingly similar to the one Gaius had worn when he wished to give one of the Pendragons important information – but he wasn't sure he would be believed.

"What is it you want to say?" he asked, curious to know what Merlin found important but unbelievable.

His friend opened his mouth, then shut it and gave him a look of petulant irritation. "I don't like you," he said abruptly, pointing at Arthur. "The – sound of your voice, makes me – want to obey everything you say. I never – met anyone like you."

Arthur laughed. "Likewise, Merlin." The suspicion in his friend's eyes didn't waver, but Arthur found he didn't mind.

"What do you want from me?" Merlin said. "Everyone says, trust me. Only – I can't." He whirled and strode away, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched.

It was progress, Arthur supposed, that Merlin had talked to him. And the magic he possessed stayed firmly in control.

Arthur noticed that the radio was playing softly in the IT department, and he recognized the song. _You'll remember me when the west wind moves/ Upon the fields of barley… You can tell the sun in his jealous sky/ When we walked in fields of gold… I never make promises lightly/ And there have been some that I've broken… But I swear in the days still left/ We'll walk in fields of gold…_

Whatever secrets Merlin had, maybe in time he'd trust Arthur enough to tell.

Arthur woke startled, with a deep sense of dread, all the more frightening because he had fallen asleep in good spirits. He glanced at the clock as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. 1:34. He grabbed at it, almost fumbled it on the floor. "Hello?" he said thickly. No answer. He glanced at the screen – painfully bright in the darkened room, and realized it was an incoming text, not a call. Gwaine. _Ye gods, at this hour._ "What?" he grumbled to himself, keying to view the message.

**Ntruder in th citadel sire. U need 2 get 2 camelot asap. Lone.**

It was the "sire" that convinced Arthur Gwaine was serious, and not pulling some elaborate practical joke. Gwaine's favorite nickname for him was "princess", and never used a more formal title – except when the situation was dire. **On my way**, he texted back.

Arthur dressed swiftly. The house was dark, and quiet. He used no lights, cringed as he reset the alarm to let himself out, and wasted no time using the garage door, starting the Mustang, and rolling down to the gate. The last thing he needed was his father waking to question him.

That late at night, he hit every light green. The parking lot was deserted, and he pulled in – crookedly in his haste – next to Gwaine's dark green Ford pick-up. Shoving his keys in his pocket, he hurried to the side door, by the break-room.

Gwaine was there to meet him. "What's going on?" Arthur demanded.

"I caught an intruder." The former knight was intent, worried, headed immediately for the back stairs.

"So call the police, Gwaine – what do you think_ I_ can do about it?" _This isn't Camelot, after all – well it _is_, but_… Arthur followed, unenthusiastic.

"Just listen. The alarm didn't go off like someone had broken in, but I saw something while I was walking the third floor." The former knight sounded kind of nervous for someone who'd been three years on a police force.

"Something?"

"Yeah – a shadow, and it moved. I called out, and he ran. I – I used the taser, like we're supposed to. He went down hard."

"Gwaine." Arthur didn't understand. "That's when you cuff him and call the police – not the son of the CEO. Surely they went over this with you –"

"Arthur, will you shut up and listen to me?" Gwaine turned around at the head of the stairs. Lights were on in the hallway, all the way up to the third floor. "Normally, yes, I would, but this is –" He waved a hand, at a loss for words. "Different."

"It's different how?"

"It's Merlin."

**To those who'd like to see Freya again… I never intended that for this fic. I have Merlin at 18, which is very young (these days) to meet the love of your life. I also think it distracts from the Merlin-Arthur-knights dynamic, in a way that Arthur's romance with Gwen does not, since Freya never really had interaction with anyone but Merlin… But I can see, towards the end, when these issues are ironed out (Merlin's memory loss, the 'why' of the return) I can see Merlin finding love, someone to support him the way he supports Arthur…Though in this story, I see that support as more mutual than it was shown in the series… **

**Well, how about this – let me know if more of you want Freya back, and we'll see about a possible alternate ending?**


	8. Protector's Heart

Chapter 8: Protector's Heart

"Merlin?" Arthur echoed blankly. "Why the hell would he be here at night?"

"Why would he run from me?" Gwaine added, running a hand through his hair distractedly.

"You said he went down hard." Arthur's heart rate began to pick up.

"I didn't see that it was him at first," Gwaine confessed. "That taser only has thirty-five thousand volts, just meant to knock you on your – well, the idiot tripped. Took a header down the stairs."

_Oh, damn_. "Where is he?" Arthur said, passing Gwaine to take the short hallway to the base of the third-floor staircase at a run.

Merlin's body was huddled on the floor, head and shoulders still on the stairs.

"Did you move him?" Arthur said, immediately feeling at his friend's neck for a pulse.

"You're not supposed to, when there might be a head or neck injury," Gwaine said. "First I thought to call for an ambulance, but –"

"There might be awkward questions to answer," Arthur said grimly. "Think we should call Gaius?"

"I did, just after I texted you. He thought Merlin was still in bed. He'll be here in maybe five minutes. You think…" Gwaine hesitated. "You think maybe – this was quite a knock upside the head, but maybe…"

Merlin moaned, shifting his legs. "Merlin, can you hear me?" Arthur said, moving to his side, while Gwaine hovered over them both. He couldn't quite contain the flame of hope that Gwaine had ignited with his idiotic theory. "Try not to move. Gaius is on the way – we need you not to move around til he can check you for injuries."

Merlin's blue eyes blinked open, focused on Arthur's face. "Drake?" he said thickly. "What are you doing here?" Drake. Not _Arthur_.

"Oh, _damn_," Gwaine breathed in disappointment.

Merlin's eyes turned to the dark-haired knight. "You shot me," he said in slurred accusation.

Gwaine corrected, "I _shocked_ you."

"That _hurt_." Merlin tried to raise head and shoulders from the stairs.

"Lie still!" Arthur commanded, and Merlin obediently settled back into motionlessness.

Gwaine grinned at the former servant's instinctive reaction to his sovereign's order, and in relief that Merlin seemed to be all right. "Rung your bell, did it? You see little birds circling your head?" His grin widened. "_Pheasants_?" he said, his voice carrying an unusual intensity for the stupid joke it sounded like to Arthur.

Merlin chuckled, wincing. "_Three_ pheasants," he agreed.

Gwaine's devilish grin was brilliant with joy, and Arthur wondered if there was something he'd just missed. The former knight reached to squeeze Arthur's shoulder, and nodded at him. "He'll be fine, sire," Gwaine predicted. "He's still in there somewhere. I'll go wait to let Gaius in – the key cards don't work after hours."

Arthur sat down on the steps next to his friend. Merlin closed his eyes again – the bruise on his face a faint sickly green on his pale skin. "What the hell, Merlin," he said tiredly, "are you doing _here_, at this time of night? And don't, for the love of –"

"For the love of Camelot?" Merlin suggested in a vague murmur. Arthur's heart caught in his throat. "Don't what, Drake?" Merlin continued, opening one eye to peer at him.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Don't tell me some cock-and-bull story about rats or termites or…"

"Your drone project," Merlin said, speaking more clearly than he had yet that night, "is compromised."

"What?" Arthur said, startled. He'd half expected some stupid story about retrieving work left behind that day, or maybe some embarrassed confession about an attempt to steal office supplies. He'd half expected to hear a lie.

"What are you going to do with me?" An unrelated question, yet obviously important to Merlin. He spoke not to bargain his information for a deal, but in a childishly vulnerable voice that said he knew he had broken laws and faced punishment.

"Your grandfather is on his way," Arthur reassured his friend. "He'll make sure you haven't broken your fool neck, or something."

"Oh, he's going to be pissed," Merlin sighed, closing his eyes again, and folding his hands over his stomach. "Are you sure you won't let me up? This floor isn't exactly soft."

"That'll be for the doctor to decide," Arthur said. "It's the same floor I'm sitting on – I know how hard it is, and I'm sorry. Just hold on." If Merlin could move his limbs and extremities, he should be fine, right?"

Merlin was quiet for a moment. "You really do care about me, don't you?"

"Just don't ask me to hold your hand and sing kum-bah-yah," Arthur joked. "But, yes, idiot – that's what friends are for."

"And then what?" Merlin asked quietly; Arthur didn't fully understand the question. "Are you going to have me arrested?"

"Probably not tonight," Arthur said, trying to keep the conversation light. "Tomorrow – we'll see." Merlin seemed remarkably calm about the idea – accepting, even. That seemed to be an innocent response, to Arthur. Unless Merlin had hit his head harder than anyone thought.

"Where is he?" They heard Gaius' voice, footsteps ascending the first-to-second-floor stairs.

"Just up here," Gwaine said. "I wouldn't have discharged the taser if I'd recognized him, but it was just bad luck that he tripped down the stairs."

Gaius was breathing hard from his hurry as he came into view, black medical bag in hand, and raised one eyebrow austerely at the sight of Merlin and Arthur apparently lounging on the stairs.

"Comfortable, Merlin?" he said sternly, as Arthur moved to allow him access to his grandson.

"Not so much." Merlin gave Gaius a fairly good imitation of his characteristically impudent grin. "Sorry to wake you."

"Clumsy as ever, aren't you?" They could all hear the loving concern beneath the old man's gruff words.

"It's my lot in life," Merlin sighed, a twinkle showing in his eyes.

"You must learn to be more careful, my boy," Gaius admonished. "What did you think you were doing here?"

"It's – complicated," Merlin said defensively, submitting to Gaius' gentle touch.

"How badly does it hurt?" Gaius said. "Can you move your neck?"

"It's not too bad," Merlin answered, turning his head though it made him wince.

"Can you still feel your fingers and toes?"

"All twenty," Merlin answered.

"Any numbness?" Gaius reached behind Merlin to feel along his back. "Does anything I'm doing cause a sharper pain?"

"No, sir."

"How long was he out?" The old man's question was directed to the other two young men.

"About – eighteen minutes," Gwaine estimated, checking his watch.

"Well, Arthur," Gaius concluded, pushing himself back to his feet, "I can't find anything more seriously wrong with him than general bruising and a mild concussion, but I'd like to take him to the hospital for x-rays, maybe a ct scan, just to be safe."

"Morphine?" Merlin suggested guilelessly, still lying motionless on the stairs.

"You should be so lucky," Gaius scolded him. "I brought a neck brace with me; I have half a mind to make you wear it just to teach you a lesson." He turned back to Arthur. "I'm going to assume, Arthur, that he's not under arrest, at least for tonight?"

Arthur sighed. His father would kill him. If he found out. "I'll come along to the ER," he said. "I want to hear the whole story before I make any decisions."

Gaius moved to allow Gwaine room to help Merlin to his feet, but Merlin's eyes stayed on Arthur's face. "You believe me," he said wonderingly. "My whole life, no one has believed me."

"We can talk later," Arthur said, as Gwaine steadied Merlin. He reached out a hand to his friend's shoulder, but Merlin twisted away, gently refusing his aid.

Arthur stooped instead to pick up Merlin's satchel from where it had landed partially beneath him. "I hope nothing's broken," he said, slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

"So do I," Gaius muttered meaningfully, shepherding his grandson slowly down the second-floor hallway.  
"Tell me something, mate," Gwaine said, trailing along behind the pair, beside Arthur. "How'd you get in? Your key card shouldn't work, and you didn't trip the alarm."

"Oh, I told the security system to allow my key card access twenty-four-seven," Merlin said.

"Told?" Gwaine said.

"Hacked, he means," Gaius said, with a disapproval worthy of Thomas Drake himself. "Come on, easy does it, down the stairs."

Merlin leaned heavily on the handrail, hissing twice in pain during his journey downward. Arthur held his breath, hoping another stumble wouldn't take Merlin down another flight of stairs, and Gaius with him.

At the door, Gwaine keyed his own code to allow for their exit, and kept Arthur back by a hand on his elbow. "We're all on the security tapes tonight," he said. "No one will see them unless they specifically check… You let me know if I should 'accidentally' erase them?"

Arthur smirked. "Thanks, Gwaine."

"Arthur – he must have a good reason for coming tonight," Gwaine said. "You trust him, don't you?"

He took a deep breath, considering. The hacking charges had been dropped – for lack of evidence? Because Merlin was careful, or innocent? He _had_ been on the verge of telling Thomas Drake something, of confiding in Arthur that very day. "Even if he isn't _our_ Merlin – yes, I trust him," he said. "I have to believe he hasn't changed _that_ much."

Gwaine nodded as if confirming something to himself. "He was in your father's office," he told Arthur. "Don't know how he got past that lock, either." Arthur gave his former knight a _look_, and Gwaine chuckled. "Yeah, think I can make a pretty good guess, too. Let me know when you know if he's all right."

Arthur drove his Mustang behind Gaius and Merlin in the Prius to the nearest 24-hour emergency care center. Merlin scorned the offer of a wheelchair, and made his cautious way inside to the waiting room, slouching in the nearest seat to rest his head gingerly against the back of it. Arthur dropped down next to him as Gaius went to talk to the admitting nurse on duty. There were three other family groups waiting – a young couple with a sneezing, whining toddler, a nervous young woman with an ice pack clutched around one wrist, and a middle-aged man doubled over a blue vomit bag in the corner.

"So – what were you doing in my father's office?" Arthur said, conversationally, setting Merlin's satchel down between his feet. "How do you know the project's compromised? And in what way?"

"Your first day," Merlin said slowly, "I was fixing a firewall for a guy in Engineering. The next day, the server crashed in Marketing, and the pass-code on the disc for that presentation had been –" he hesitated, then said, "reset. Yesterday the military program went offline for twelve seconds."

"Your department is necessary because internal technical difficulties are a part of corporate life," Arthur pointed out mildly.

Merlin glared at him, but before he could speak, a male nurse called, "Caroban, Marvin," and Merlin was pushing himself painfully to his feet before Arthur registered the name's significance. He followed to the door of the triage room, as the male nurse got Merlin settled, fitted with a blood pressure cuff, clipped a monitor to Merlin's opposite index finger, and stuck a thermometer in a protective plastic sleeve into Merlin's mouth.

"So, you tripped and fell down the stairs at your townhouse, huh?" the nurse said in a tone of friendly commiseration. Arthur looked at Gaius, who raised one eyebrow as if challenging Arthur to protest a correction. "At least it was carpet and not concrete, right?" Merlin mumbled an affirmative around the instrument, and the nurse removed it.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is your level of pain right now?" The nurse prepared to take Merlin through his relevant medical history, so Arthur returned to the waiting area. After about five minutes, Gaius beckoned to Arthur to join them as they were shown to an examination room.

Merlin stretched himself out, groaning, on the sheet-covered bed. Gaius stepped on the pedal-control to lay it flat, and Merlin rolled to his stomach. Arthur took the doctor's rolling stool, leaving a more comfortable chair with armrests for the old man.

"You had a funny feeling these incidents were – unusual," Arthur said, and Merlin opened one eye to look at him. "Carol said you'd been glued to your computer this week, but she didn't know what you were working on. And tonight you broke into my father's office."

"I didn't _break_ anything," Merlin objected, his voice muffled where his mouth was mashed into the sheet. "I know I sound like an idiot, but - I'm pretty sure _some_one out there gained access to the information on that project without authorization."

Arthur considered. He originally hadn't thought the contract for specialized drones anything noteworthy, other than to bring Gwaine and Percival back to Camelot. He honestly wasn't sure he could accurately judge the important of the project on the grand scale of things – but Merlin had apparently thought it important enough to break the law for. "What did you want in my father's office?" Arthur asked.

"I thought if I could find a complete set of detailed blueprints, I could figure out – well, I could figure out – more."

Gaius spoke from his armchair by the door. "Curiosity killed the cat, Merlin… and never did you much good, either." Knowing the old man as he did, Arthur heard an implied, _why didn't you tell someone?_

"I know, but I can't just ignore it – it won't go away!" Merlin exclaimed. He rolled over to see each of them more clearly, and a brief knock interrupted.

A short middle-aged woman in teal scrubs looked in. "I've come to take –" she double-checked her chart, "Martin, to Radiology."

Merlin grunted as he pushed himself upright and away from the bed – all three of them moved simultaneously to help, but he shrugged them all off with a quiet mutter, "I've _got_ it."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Gaius asked, but Merlin shook his head as the nurse escorted him away down the white, antiseptic hallway.

"About the drones," Arthur said. "You said the laboratory was involved. I want to know what you know." He wished now he'd paid more attention in that meeting, and resolved to sit down with Percival the next day. Actually, he'd probably need to sit down with all of them the next day, if this project concerned the reason they were all back.

"The drones the Department of Defense wanted Camelot Technologies to manufacture and program were assassin drones," Gaius said. It was crazy-odd to Arthur to hear the old physician familiar with modern terms. "The technology allowing a drone to target a single person needed refining. Camelot Laboratories has also been able to add a feature tracking a target via their DNA. This allows for one-hundred-percent accuracy, the way a photo-trigger does not. The secondary capability of the drone allows for surveillance in situations when the safety of a human asset would be at considerable risk."

Arthur could see where the technology could be of use to the enemy – targeting the president, for instance. But a global emergency? He opened Merlin's satchel, which contained the battered laptop, a half-full and room-temperature bottle of water, snack bar wrappers, a smashed carton of cigarettes and a lighter with a white dragon twined round it. He opened the laptop, but was greeted with a password prompt, and closed it again. In the bottom of the satchel was a crumpled piece of notebook paper. Arthur removed it, and flattened it, recognizing it immediately.

_So you're working for your father's company – Camelot?!_

_Summer internship. You?_

_Recruited out of high school here in DC. Went green to gold this spring. Set to liaison with Camelot for this project_.

_Who else?_

_Merlin's an intern in IT, and Gwen's a temp receptionist – you saw her, right? Gaius is head of Camelot's laboratory, across the street. And Leon is my father's driver and bodyguard_.

_Why?_

_?_

"Why does he have _this_?" Arthur said.

"What is it, sire?" Gaius said.

Arthur didn't respond. His written conversation with Percival had remained in the boardroom atop the tablet of paper. For Merlin to have retrieved it, carried it with him… it made no sense. Merlin had avoided him, had said to his face that he didn't like him. He hadn't seemed to notice Percival's presence at the table at all that day in the meeting. He'd crumpled it, had never mentioned it…but he'd kept it in his possession

"Has Merlin said anything to you about remembering?" Arthur asked the old man.

Gaius shook his head. "I'm sorry, my lord," he said. "Merlin prefers our conversations to remain on the inconsequential. I have attempted to question him twice this week – his response is to ignore me completely, or to leave the room."

Arthur stuffed the wad of paper back into the satchel.

The tiny examining room was silent, and awkward. "Merlin has always had a knack for uncovering plots," Gaius finally said. "But I have to say, I'm quite encouraged that he confided in you."

"You mean, because he didn't before," Arthur said, smiling wryly, but the admission tasted bitter in his mouth.

Gaius took a deep breath, directing his gaze to the ceiling. "A servant-master relationship is not conducive to unsupported confidences," he observed. "If a servant goes to his master with no more than suspicion, the master can do little about it. Therefore, the servant works on his own, and in secret, until he has something substantive to present to his master for action."

"That's Merlin's MO, isn't it?" Arthur said. "To work on his own until he has proof?" Gaius merely lifted his eyebrows in response. Arthur shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face, feeling more tired than he had all night. "Because he was protecting me from the suspicion of betrayal until he could bring something definite for me to act on," Arthur said.

"It is nothing against either of you, or a flaw in your relationship," Gaius said. "I found myself in the same position many times with your father, and I'm sure you will find yourself in that position during the course of your employment. One simply does not bring unproven claims to one's superior."

Arthur remembered standing in his father's presence, admitting that his witness was unavailable to corroborate his claim. He remembered his father's accusation of lies stemming from cowardice. He remembered, with shame, taking his frustration, his fear of facing a cheater who wanted to kill him, out on Merlin. _Damn_, that fool boy had stood with him, even when he didn't deserve it. Stood with him until the end, when Arthur had turned the accusation of cowardice back on the one who _least_ deserved it – then Merlin had stood alone on the top of a lightning-lit cliff to save the battle anyway.

"Gaius," he said. "I don't know if I want Merlin to remember." The old physician's eyebrow rose in surprise. "He is going to remember my faults, my failures, my – disloyalty to _him_. I don't – I don't _deserve_ him, Gaius."

"You were not given to each other because you deserved each other, Arthur," Gaius said. "You were given to each other because you _need_ each other. Perhaps it will not be long…"

"Two sides of one coin," Arthur remembered.

"Coin, what coin? Do I get a raise, then?" Merlin said, shuffling through the door.

The teal-scrubbed nurse was right behind him. "We've got some Percocet for you," she said, handing Merlin a tiny plastic cup containing the pills, and filling a larger one with water from the sink in the room. "The doctor will be in shortly to let you know the results of the x-ray and scan."

Merlin swallowed both the pills at once, and lowered himself to a prone sprawl on the bed once again.

"Merlin, can you prove that someone was –" viewing? stealing? hacking? – "messing about with the project?" Arthur questioned.

"I've been trying," Merlin sighed. "Maybe with time, and better equipment…" He opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, then struggled up to his elbows to gaze at Arthur in mild bewilderment. "You really do believe me, don't you? You're not going to have me arrested, or…"

"Thrown in a dungeon on suspicion?" Arthur laughed softly, but his throat hurt. It wasn't a good joke, even if Merlin didn't remember.

"I don't understand why," his friend continued. "I'm nothing to you – I'm no one. After tonight – I wouldn't be surprised if you never trusted me again."

"I owe you," Arthur said. _For so much_… "You didn't have to notice those glitches, you didn't have to go out on a limb to find things out yourself. You could have told Carol or Steve, then washed your hands of it. But you didn't." _Because you_ care, Arthur realized, whether the sorcerer knew it or not, he _did_ care. "This has been a long time coming," he told Merlin, over the lack of true comprehension in his friend's blue eyes. "I –"

"Hello," said a male voice from the door, as a balding man wearing bifocal glasses pushed in, studying the file in his hand. "You're Martin?" He patted Merlin's shin absently. "And you're Dr. Sagesse?" He shook Gaius' hand. "Well, good news and good news. Nothing broken, no cracked vertebrae, no brain trauma either." Arthur stood to allow the doctor the use of the rolling stool. "Do you remember falling?" the doctor asked Merlin, beginning to test Merlin's vision and reflexes.

"I remember - starting to fall," Merlin hedged, glancing at Arthur, then his grandfather.

The doctor then rattled off a string of questions: "In addition to your headache, did you experience any dizziness, confusion, nausea?

"I was maybe a little dizzy," Merlin said.

"How about a lack of balance or coordination?" Arthur snorted, and both doctors gave him stern looks.

Merlin wasn't bothered, though. "No more than usual," he said innocently.

"What about blurry vision? Any slurring of speech? Feelings of anxiety or irritability?"

Merlin's smile at Arthur was diabolical, but he said, "No, sir."

The ER physician turned to Gaius. "I agree with your diagnosis of a mild concussion, doctor – wake him every two hours tonight. You'll know what else to watch for, I trust? We'll send you home with a week's worth of Percocet, and another week's worth of Motrin. All right? Anything else? Then the nurse will be in momentarily with your discharge paperwork." He stood and backed out the door, fitting the file folder into a basket on the outer wall.

Arthur tossed the satchel onto the bed between Merlin's shins, taking out his phone, intending to text Gwaine. "Take the morning off – get some sleep. But I want you in Camelot by one o'clock – we're taking this to my father."

"Are you sure?" It was Gaius who spoke. Merlin stared at Arthur with a mixture of fascination and apprehension.

"I'm sure that this should be the first step," Arthur said. "If there's a threat, my father still deserves to be the first to know."

**Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, nor a scientist. Any issues with my drone plot are involuntary, of course, so if corrections are in order, please let me know… though I guess the idea doesn't have to be possible, only probable…**

**Any NCIS:LA fans may notice some similarities – this idea hatched in my brain before a recent episode, but I have borrowed from it to boost believability. I also should admit to some Dark Angel imagery, which I remembered as I was hashing out my details…**

**And, as always, none of us owns Merlin – although, if you do, please let me know, and we'll work something out… **


	9. An Audience With the King

**Disclaimer: Tom Clancy was a truly brilliant writer. I am not Tom Clancy. **

**Thanks to everyone weighing in on the Freya question… and thanks to LFB72 and starglen (and others) for long and considered reviews!**

Chapter 9: An Audience With the King

Thursday morning Thomas Drake left the house before Arthur got up, so he drove himself to Camelot in his Mustang without the benefit of Leon's company or advice. He stopped by Mary's office and asked that she make room on his father's schedule for him. "Ten minutes, Mary," he said, giving the middle-aged blonde woman his charming smile. "Ten minutes is all I need."

"Well, if it's important…" His father's blonde PA relented. "And if I can get him off the phone with the Pentagon by one-twenty…"

"With the Pentagon?" Arthur said.

Mary smiled. "They're trying to arrange a place and time for a demonstration of new technology, pending a successful initial test next week."

"Uh-huh," Arthur said, a feeling of uneasiness stirring. "Thanks, Mary. We'll be here at quarter-after."

That morning Arthur spent with Engineering. They were confident in their security. They wouldn't give him copies of the blueprints of the drone.

Percival came for a few minutes at Arthur's request, and confirmed both Gaius' information and Merlin's tale of a twelve-second lapse on the military side of the program. He was concerned at the possibility of a breach in security, but willing to follow his liege's lead in the matter. Arthur decided not to mention Merlin's suspicion to Percival – not yet, anyway. He wasn't sure if Lieutenant Spiers would be required to report such a thing… and he understood Merlin's lies of omission a little better.

"I'm working through lunch today," Percival added. "That way I can leave for home at four instead of five o'clock." He gave Arthur his big easy grin. "Kathryn's not happy about this commute."

Leon was having the Bentley detailed during the lunch hour, so Arthur and Gwen were alone at the table in the break-room. "You're quiet today," Gwen observed, munching a carrot stick.

"Yeah. Gwen," Arthur said, as a thought occurred to him, "what does Elyan _do_, exactly, in the navy?"

"He's in naval intelligence," Gwen said. "Satellite surveillance, mostly, tracking potential terrorist threats. Why?"

"Just – wondering," Arthur said, surprised – although maybe he shouldn't be – at how closely Elyan's specialty matched this challenge they were facing.

"You've got an idea why you've returned," Gwen guessed. "I – I know we weren't going to live a quiet, ordinary life – I mean, you're King Arthur, after all…" She trailed off, sorrow in her eyes.

"Hey, we'll be all right," Arthur said. "I promise."

"_Don't say that_!" Gwen said, startling him with her vehemence. "Don't _say_ that, when you don't know. You don't know what it was like, waiting behind in the city, watching you ride out…"

"I don't even carry a sword anymore." Arthur smiled, wanting to reassure her. "I'll be fine – Merlin has my back, after all."

"I would feel better about that if Merlin knew he had your back, too," Gwen said.

*….. *….. *….. *….. *…..

Merlin was late. Arthur wasn't surprised. He waited for the sorcerer in the lobby, hands on his hips. At five minutes past one o'clock, he wondered briefly if he'd changed his mind, run away – though Merlin never _did_ run away – before deciding that the fleeting thought was an absurd one.

Merlin loped into the lobby at ten-after, pale and clutching the satchel strap across his chest. His black t-shirt stood out through the white button-up shirt. A second bruise darkened his jaw-line, and Arthur wondered sympathetically as to the count of similar marks on his friend's body from the tumble down the stairs.

"How are you doing?" Arthur said.

"I'll be okay," Merlin mumbled, flashing a quick tense grin.

"You look like you didn't sleep at all," Arthur reproved him. Even with Gaius waking him every two hours, he could've had at least nine or ten worth of sleep. "Nightmares?" He could have bit his tongue as soon as the word slipped out.

Merlin stared at Arthur. "Yeah," he finally confessed. "But – I don't remember them." The phones warbled, echoing through the lobby, and Arthur turned to lead his friend up to the CEO's office. "What if your father doesn't listen to me?" Merlin worried, stumbling a little on the grand stair, to Arthur's right and a little behind.

"Just tell the truth," Arthur said. "You'll be fine." He relished the rightness of having his friend at his side. Not a servant anymore, nor a sorcerer yet again… but _friend_ was good.

"No offense, Drake, but the truth hasn't ever done me much good."

Arthur paused and turned on the second-floor landing, forcing Merlin to meet his gaze. "Relax," he ordered. "My father will not order your arrest or execution – there is no dungeon here."

"No – but he can still fire me," Merlin said drily. "And oddly enough – I'd like to keep this job." _Til the day I die_. Arthur stared at him for a moment longer, then continued up the second flight of stairs. "You're really putting your ass on the line for this," Merlin said.

"So are you," Arthur reminded him.

"Yeah…but mine is only a skinny ass," Merlin said. "Whereas yours…"

Arthur turned on the stairs, feigning anger, and Merlin pulled back to avoid running into him, startled. "Don't you _dare_ call me fat," Arthur ordered, trying to stuff down a feeling of incongruously hilarious joy. Was he fooling himself to believe that his old friend was closer to the surface than before? If anyone had told him he'd be _glad_ to hear Merlin making jokes about Arthur's physique… "It's _all_ muscle."

"Of course it is." Merlin's blue eyes were clear, innocent of mockery.

"I'm fighting fit – and don't you forget it." Arthur turned away before loosing the grin he'd been fighting.

"Arthur," Thomas Drake greeted his son when the two entered his office. "This is unexpected." He checked his Rolex. "I have –"

"Ten minutes, Father," Arthur said. "I have some concerns about the drone project. There's reason to believe our data has been compromised."

Thomas Drake's eyes narrowed. "Explain," he said. Arthur nodded to Merlin.

"Last Monday Engineering called in a request to IT concerning the firewall protecting their most important projects," Merlin began. "It was a relatively easy problem to fix…" Arthur seated himself in the guest chair in the corner of his father's office, gazing out the window at the twisted metal sculpture on the lawn. He understood one word in ten of his friend's explanation, but felt a deep and satisfying pride in the young man. It took courage for an intern to speak to a CEO about his suspicions, but Merlin gained confidence as he went on. "My guess is they backdoored the compiler for the purpose of network enumeration," Merlin concluded. "Your UAV project is no longer confidential."

Thomas Drake studied the young man, steepling his fingers together. "Of course you're prepared to offer proof other than your opinion," he said.

"Sir, if there was proof, you wouldn't have to worry," Merlin said. "Someone who leaves proof is an amateur. This – it's like having someone read over your shoulder. You can't see them or hear them or feel them, but you know they're there. These issues – the firewall, the password, the server – it's like having your light blocked for an instant. There's still no hard evidence, but you _know_ someone's there."

For several moments, Arthur's father regarded the earnest teenager – and Merlin held his gaze. Then Thomas Drake said, his tone giving nothing away, "You may wait outside."

Merlin shot Arthur a look, but obeyed, closing the door behind him. Arthur rose and took the place in front of his father's desk left vacant by the sorcerer's exit. Thomas Drake had his eyes closed contemplatively. "What do you think we should do?" Arthur said.

His father's eyes opened, cold and hard. "What is it you want, Arthur?" he said, voice soft and dangerous. "You're not happy with your duties – you want more responsibility? More money? What is it?"

"What do you mean?" Arthur said, uncomprehending.

"This – ridiculousness," his father snapped, dismissing Merlin with a flutter of his fingers. "It reeks of blackmail. I'm not sure why you thought it appropriate to drag him into your scheme –"

"It's no _scheme_, Father," Arthur said, trying to control his temper. "I believe him. We have a serious breach of security to investigate."

"No scheme?" his father said incredulously. "Are you really that naïve, Arthur? If you haven't paid that – that _boy_ – to lie for you, then it's clear to me that _he's_ been lying to _you_. What did he ask you for? A raise? Or is he controlling you with the threat of making this information public? Corporate espionage carries quite a jail sentence, you know."

"Aren't you listening?" Arthur said, leaning forward onto his father's desk, palms down and fingers splayed. "Someone has _hacked_ our project – we need to find out _who_ and _why_ – or maybe we should alert the DoD and let them –"

"Not another word!" Thomas Drake thundered, rising to his feet. "You dare to coerce my cooperation? Do you have any idea what this contract means to this company? If you mention _one word_ of your conspiracy theory to _anyone_, I will – I will –" Arthur's father faltered, and Arthur began to hope against logic that he might reconsider. "I will see to it that _he_ is fired." Thomas Drake pointed to the door behind which Merlin waited. "I will make sure he is prosecuted fully for this breach of his employment contract, fined to the fullest extent for the broken confidentiality agreement."

And there it was. Unable to punish his son with termination or legal action, Thomas Drake would keep Arthur in line by playing on his apparent loyalties. Arthur closed his hands into fists.

"Let me hear no more of this," Thomas Drake finished. "Get back to work – we must be ready for the final test of the drone Monday morning."

"Yes, father." Arthur had no trouble agreeing to those two orders, at least.

"And make sure _he_ knows it's his head on the block, if this gets out!"

_On the block. Perfect_. Arthur inclined his head, too angry to speak, and closed the door behind him as he left the office.

"What did he say?" Merlin said.

Arthur held up one hand, requesting temporary silence, and for once Merlin obeyed, trailing after him down the two flights of the grand staircase, across the rising-sun logo on the lobby floor. He looked for Gwen at the desk, but only Patty was on duty. Then he was out the front door, and cut to the side yard by the break-room door, out of sight from his father's office. Then he stopped, leaning against the building in a spot of shade, letting the warmth of early summer soak into his cold, hard anger.

"He didn't believe me, did he?" Merlin said in a low voice. "You're not in trouble, are you?"

Typical Merlin – worried more for Arthur's sake than his own. "No," he said only, answering both questions with strict honesty.

Merlin leaned one shoulder against the wall beside him. "What are we going to do?" he said.

"You took sick leave today, didn't you?" Arthur opened his eyes to catch Merlin's nod. "Will your grandfather let you use his computer at the lab this afternoon?"

"I think so, if I tell him it's important…" Merlin's blue eyes widened as Arthur opened one fist to hand him a small orange thumb-drive, and he gave a short incredulous chuckle.

"See what you can get off there," Arthur said. Merlin nodded, taking the drive. "Hypothetically speaking, with the equipment you have access to – here or at home, in IT or anywhere else – could you find whoever is responsible by next week?" Merlin's eyes went slightly unfocused as he considered, then slowly, apologetically, shook his head. "Never mind," Arthur said. "That's what I thought." He took in his friend's body language and expression, and remembered – as if he could forget – that this Merlin was only a teenager in a new city, with a new home and a new job, acquainted with Arthur for less than two weeks.

His willingness to obey, to risk his job – and more – to _trust_ Arthur to know what to do, to do what was necessary… staggering. "Are you sure you want to stay involved?" Arthur questioned him, dead-serious.

Merlin's eyes were solemn, but he quipped, "In for a penny, in for a pound."

"You know you don't – have to," Arthur said.

Merlin gave him a quizzical frown. "That's what friends are for, you said." He readjusted the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, and turned to lop across the lawn toward the lab.

"Take your Percocet!" Arthur called after him, and he waved one hand without turning, to show he'd heard.

Arthur returned to Engineering, but found it hard to concentrate on his pre-training lecture. After only forty minutes, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out immediately. "Excuse me," he said smoothly to the lecturer, an angular, gray-haired man, "This is about another project." The angular man turned away, shrugging, and Arthur checked the message – from Gaius' phone. He frowned, then realized Merlin would be using it.

**Chkd drive. Cmplete blprints. ?why hacked – no $ to NEone xcept cmptition. But 2 little 2 late 4 othr cmpny profit**. What now, what now? Arthur thought, drumming his fingers on the desk beside him. The phone pinged a second incoming message, again from Gaius' phone. **Idea. F we c test model, mayb find out more nsers?**

Arthur texted back. **Will let u no**.

He keyed for Leon's number. **Took Dad's thumbdrive. Can u cover 4 now, & return it 2nite w/o him knowing? **Then Gwaine's – **Need 2 no where drones from project r kept. All dtails. **Then Percival's – **Tell Kathryn srry – nee fter work**.

He didn't wait long for the incoming texts, one after another after another. Leon: **Yes – am off 9**.

Gwaine: **Will do. My place 6 2nite, pzza & beer?**

Percival: **K vry undrstndng – whatvr u need.**

Okay. Arthur took a deep breath. Reply all: **Gwaines 6**. He considered, then back-spaced and entered instead: **Gavins 6**. He inserted Gwaine's address from his saved entry, and sent the message.

There was no way they could ask to be allowed to see the drones. But if Merlin was right – and Arthur had to admit he usually was – then what he had in mind was completely necessary.

Just so long as they didn't get caught…

*….. *….. *….. *….. *…..

Later that afternoon, after saying goodbye to Gwen on the front sidewalk, Arthur sent Leon to the lab to retrieve Thomas Drake's drive from Merlin. "You let me know what I can do," Leon told Arthur seriously. "This job means my first responsibility is to your father. But the way I see it, my job is not more important than my calling."

"Thank you, Leon," Arthur said, clapping the former knight's shoulder. The loyalty of these men that had endured past centuries was humbling. It helped to make the knowledge of his _destiny_ – so much more than that of a king's son, a crown prince, a young king – the expectations of a _legend_ more bearable.

He was still thinking on that shortly after five o'clock, when he picked Merlin up from the lab, giving Gaius a quick but accurate explanation of the evening's plans. Merlin was silent in the passenger seat of the Mustang as they drove to Gwaine's apartment. Glancing at his friend's profile, Arthur was aware that Merlin had once carried the same burden of knowledge – of being the prophesied Emrys, destined to be the salvation of the magical community. What a weight for a young man! With only – as Arthur understood it – the old physician to understand, to support and advise. Arthur looked at the teenager beside him, at the obvious sterling quality of character in spite of an extremely stormy adolescence, and found he was really in no hurry for a lifetime of sorcerer's secrets to descend upon his friend.

The radio crooned softly in the background, until suddenly he recognized the song playing – _Some people live their dreams/ Some people close their eyes/ Some people's destiny/ Passes by…_ Arthur reached to turn it off, and realized his radio wasn't actually on. He let his hand drop. "What are you thinking?" he said to Merlin.

He thought maybe Merlin hadn't heard him, was ignoring him. He wasn't focusing on anything he saw outside the window. After a moment he simply said, "Just thinking." _Remembering times gone by/ Promises we once made/ What are the reasons why/ Nothing stays the same…_ With an effort, Arthur refrained from further questioning. Then Merlin said, in a wistful kind of way, "I've had a pretty crazy life. But these last two weeks…"

"Pretty crazy," Arthur agreed, when Merlin didn't go on. He hoped at least it represented a better crazy for Merlin than what he'd gone through before.

"I don't know…" Merlin shifted in the seat. "I just can't shake this…"

"Funny feeling?" Arthur said, glancing over to catch his friend's nod. Merlin's posture and expression exuded wariness of Arthur's response, as if he expected disbelief and ridicule. "Well, Merlin, that's good enough for me."

"Is it really?" Merlin said. His Merlin might have added saucily, _Took you long enough._

Percival – off work at four because he hadn't taken lunch – was already at Gwaine's when they arrived. Gwaine hollered that the door was open, and Arthur and Merlin came through the kitchen, finding the two knights deep in a combat scenario of Call of Duty.

"Watch that camper," Gwaine warned Percival. "Everything I got on the location of the drones is on the table," he called back to Arthur. "We've been over it already… See what you think."

"You raise any red flags getting it?" Arthur asked, beginning to sift through the paperwork drifted across the battered wooden table, absently seating himself at the head. Gwaine answered in the negative with a snort. Merlin slipped into the chair to Arthur's right, clutching the strap of his satchel, eyes taking in the information spread out, but keeping his hands to himself. Aerial photographs of the site, resumes of the three security guards, work order for the security company that installed the anti-intruder measures on the property. "Merlin, see what you can find out about these three." He handed the sorcerer the resumes, while he focused on the aerial photographs, picking up a magnifying glass left on the table. Merlin took out his laptop and opened it, his fingers flashing across his keyboard. "Are these the best photos you could get?" Arthur said.

"It's all they had," Gwaine mumbled from his seat on the carpet, leaning against the couch.

"What's the address?" Merlin said, and Arthur pitched a post-it note on the top resume, turning his attention to mentally cataloguing the obstacles between them and the drones.

"Watch that sniper on your left," Percival warned. "No – up on the roof – no –" Gwaine cursed and tossed his controller onto the brown shag rug. Percival set his down more carefully, and both knights came into the room to seat themselves across from Arthur and to his left. "What do you think?" Percival asked.

"It's a private site," Gwaine said. "Electric fences, barbed wire, three guards from six hundred to twenty hundred hours, then only two from twenty hundred to six, along with one dog twenty-four-seven. No access granted to anyone without dual confirmation – Camelot ID, and specific clearance from Thomas Drake."

"Which clearance," Arthur noted, reading to the end of the report, "is double-checked via private password before admittance."

"Here," Merlin said, turning his laptop around for the others to see. "You can get pretty good aerial photos from weather monitoring satellites."

"Good," Arthur said. "Gw – ah, Gavin, make copies and add those to our material here."

"What's the objective?" Percival said.

"We need – well, Merlin needs – a good, close, long look at the drones," Arthur said. "And we need to do it with nobody the wiser…" he hesitated, a thought occurring to him. "With nobody the wiser _that it was us_. If a break-in at the drone's location is reported to my father, possibly he would reconsider his disbelief."

"And the guards?" Percival said, rubbing his jaw. On the laptop keyboard, Merlin's fingers stilled, his eyes meeting Arthur's.

"Avoid contact," Arthur said. "Ideally, they'll discover the break-in after we're safely away. Plan B, knock 'em out and tie 'em up."

The doorbell rang, and Gwaine got up from his chair to deal with the pizza delivery. Percival collected the paperwork so Gwaine could set the boxes on the table, and Gwaine returned to the fridge for a case of bottled beer.

"Arthur," Merlin said. "Look at this." He turned the laptop around for Arthur to view the screen, a DMV copy of an ID picturing a nondescript white male. "Fred Acheson is one of the three guards. The other two checked out, but this one – something is off."

"Something what?" Arthur said. Merlin glanced at the other two – Percival calm-faced as ever, Gwaine checking an instinct to tease.

Merlin said, "All the proper records are there, down to his grades in elementary school, but what's _missing_ is the extra – no dog registration, no college campus parking tickets, no passport application, not even a library card. He looks good on paper – but I think paper is all it is."

"That won't change the mission," Arthur decided. "We'll be aware of the extra risk he may pose –"

"No one to hold hostage?" Percival asked.

"No one to interrogate?" Gwaine said plaintively.

Arthur allowed a small, quick smile. "Not this time," he said.

"Are we going in armed?" Gwaine asked.

"Stun guns or tasers only," Arthur said. "I don't want any of us hurt just to avoid getting fired or locked up, but the guards, ultimately, are on our side."

Merlin looked from Arthur to the other two, and back again. "What are you guys, the A-team?" he said, only half-kidding. The two knights stared at the young sorcerer for a moment, before bursting into laughter. Merlin pushed himself up from the table, slipped out the sliding glass door that led to Gwaine's balcony. Once there, he lit a cigarette and leaned on the iron railing.

"The A-Team," Gwaine repeated, making a show of wiping his eyes. "Ye gods, I love that kid."

"He still doesn't remember," Percival said, and though it wasn't a question, Arthur shook his head. "It's a wonder he's here, Arthur," the big knight continued. "How many kids just out of high school, strangers in a new place, would be up for this?" He gestured at the intelligence paperwork Gwaine had gathered. "He's incredible."

"He always went with us," Gwaine said. "On patrols, on quests…"

"Because he knew his magic could keep him safe," Percival said, and Arthur realized that the quiet knight had been considering the issue for some time. "Him, and Arthur. And all of us. And – he _doesn't_ know that, this time. Yet he's coming anyway."

Arthur left the table, slid open the glass door to step out of the apartment. It was warm out, a few stars showing, the air humid but not yet unpleasant for the season. Arthur leaned on the railing next to Merlin as the young sorcerer lit a second cigarette from the butt of the first. "What the hell are we doing?" Merlin said bluntly.

Arthur spread his hands. "I suppose we could let it go and do nothing," he said. "See what happens."

"No," Merlin said immediately, then shook his head at himself. He twisted sideways to rest his hips in the corner of the railing, squinting at Arthur through the trailing smoke. "Tell me something, college boy," he said. "Pete is an army lieutenant. Gavin's been PD for a couple years. Hell, even Leon has training and experience in self-defense and security." Arthur nodded, taking no offense, waiting for Merlin to continue. "Why do they all act like you're the quarterback of this screwed-up little football team? Because you're the boss' son? These guys – they're newer to Camelot than I am, and – and – _this_?"

Arthur didn't dare speak. He wanted to tell Merlin everything, lay it all out – the dreams, the memories, the Round Table and a kingdom reclaimed from darkness. But to say to someone who didn't share those memories, _I am King Arthur_ – it was sheer lunacy.

_He wanted to tell his secret, but he knew his friend wouldn't believe him. Worse, his friend might stop trusting him and turn away, when confidence was of the utmost importance . _

Arthur felt like his epiphany had punched him in the stomach. "I am," he managed, "so sorry, Merlin. For everything."

Merlin shrugged, inhaling nicotine, turning away. "I don't get it," he said, pretending nonchalance, but Arthur heard a note of longing in his friend's voice.

At that moment Gwaine slid the glass door open behind them. "Leon's here," he reported. "He's got an idea for the dog. Are you ready to make a plan?"

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who shrugged and inhaled deeply before flicking the cigarette over the edge of the balcony. "I and my fellows," he said, "are ministers of Fate."

**A/N: Okay, so I may have written myself into a corner with this drone thing… I am not now nor have ever been nor ever will be privy to the comprehension of cutting-edge military technology. I simply wanted to write a reincarnation fic, and asked myself, what would be a big enough problem to need the once and future king for. After doing exhausting (not exhaustive) research, I am simply going to make it up as I go along, and hope it holds together… **

**Also, what about the texting-ploy? Does that work for the story, or should I expand into actual phone conversations?**

**Ah.. I get it. Shorter chapter = more reviews. Oh, well…**

**And last but not least, Merlin's last line this chapter is one of Ariel's lines from The Tempest…**


	10. An Hour in the Dark

**A/N To those who already noticed I did not provide a name for the suspect guard in chapter 9, I have replaced the chapter with the change. Also I have armed my knights with stun guns instead of knives, which I am more comfortable with in this situation (where the guards are not necessarily enemies).**

**Thanks to everyone who reassured me on the technical aspects of this plot! Please feel free to message me if something doesn't feel cohesive!**

Chapter 10: An Hour in the Dark

Friday night. Or rather, early Saturday morning. The green digital clock in the middle of the dashboard of Percival's Silverado read 2:22, lighting up the side of the big knight's face as he drove through the dark Virginia countryside. Arthur rode shotgun, tapping his right-hand ring absently on the door-armrest. Percival slid a cd into the player, for background noise to ease the tension, without being a distraction.

Unfortunately for Arthur, a distraction was what it was. The opening music was familiar, but when Johnny Cash began the lyrics, Arthur froze mid-tap_. I will drink the cup/ the poison overflowing… _He resisted the urge to turn around to look at Merlin. No one would know the significance of those words but the two of them alone_. I will lift you up…_ the song continued_… Watch over where you're going_…

_My spirit aches, I can't stop this river flowing/ In fear I take each labored breath I draw in knowing/ That this could be my last, my final hour/ But faith and hope and love give me the power… for you…_

_Yea, though I walk_, Johnny Cash said in his gravelly sad voice, _through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me… for you are with me…_ Arthur shivered, and wished he could order Merlin to cheer the hell up. _I'll be your salvation though the storm surrounding/ There on our own conditions, lay my body down/ In the wake abandon willing sacrifice/ I'll walk through the canyon bring the shadows light…_

Arthur gritted his teeth til the cd switched to a new song. Merlin might just as well have shouted out that he was planning on protecting them all with his own life. _It won't be that kind of mission_, he wanted to say.

Behind them on the bench seat of the extended cab, Gwaine in the middle was looking over the map of the site, printed out from satellite imagery Elyan had emailed. After Arthur had explained their plan to Gwen, she had volunteered her brother to obtain the best visuals possible, and Arthur had to admit, Elyan had really come through. Detailed aerial photos of a ten-mile radius, topography and infrared over a twenty-hour time span, which allowed them a clear idea of the guards' routines and positions at any given time. Arthur thought that each of the siblings privately must have wished that they could be there, for their own reasons.

_I'm safe in the eye of the storm,_ the next song claimed. Arthur recognized Rascal Flatts. _Oh the dreams I've seen tattered and torn/ Just when I think I can't take any more/ You give me shelter and never will I be alone/ Hold me closer and help me to find my way home…_

Beside Gwaine, Leon shifted the black duffel bag containing the equipment they'd need, courtesy of Percival and Gwaine and a few of their mates, a mix of military and police gear.

_Cause it's a long road, through the darkest of nights…_ Directly behind Arthur on the passenger side, Merlin was silent and motionless_. High is this mountain I climb/ Deep is this river of time/ Sometimes I'll stumble but you're there to remind me/ You're standing right there beside me…_ Arthur wondered if Merlin was actually listening, or not.

"Sgt. MacKenzie" came on, bagpipes skirling through the quiet of the cab. For a moment Arthur let himself relax in the shrill unfamiliarity of the instrument, but then the vocals began_, Lay me doon in the caul caul groon… whaur afore monie maur huv gaun…*_

"Not that one!" Arthur barked, and could have sworn that all four jumped. He might have laughed, in other circumstances. Neither he nor Percival touched the controls, but the cd clicked and ended.

Percival put his boot on the brake, and the Silverado rolled onto a gravel access road two miles from the drones' hangar site – a place where a gradual rise and a smoothed ridge hid them from the hangar, and the trees would provide cover from the road. "We're here," he said unnecessarily, opening his door enough to turn the dome light on.

Leon unzipped the duffel, handing round the black-and-olive grease paint. Percival and Arthur used the drop-down mirrors in the front-seat sun-visors, while Gwaine and Leon shared a small hand mirror to check the coverage of the paint.

"Here," Gwaine said, taking Merlin's tube and turning the teenager's face to finish for him, the rough knight's fingers gentle on the bruises.

"Makes a helluva change from red cloaks," Percival remarked, and Leon snorted.

Merlin, who probably didn't get the joke, said quietly to Gwaine, "Gavin, have you ever been shot?" The silence in the cab of the Silverado was deafening. Arthur held his breath.

"Once," Gwaine said easily. Percival and Arthur both turned around to stare at their friend. Then again, Gwaine had come to the Round Table with something of a history the first time – they all had, really.

"Where?" Merlin said.

"In a Walmart parking lot." Gwaine grinned, knowing that he hadn't answered the intended question. "Hurt like hell. There – you're done." Merlin shot a quick glance at Arthur, who almost smiled at the sight of Merlin's blue eyes so wide and bright in his paint-darkened face, except for the fact that Merlin was genuinely anxious.

Exiting the vehicle, they shut the doors quietly, made their way to the back tailgate area to don Kevlar vests and lightweight gloves, stun guns in holsters on their belts. Gwaine flipped Merlin's before handing it to him. "You know to use the sharp end, right?" he said with a smile in his voice.

"The A-team," Percival said in his deep, serious voice, "wishes they were us."

Merlin didn't respond, readjusting his satchel over the camo-covered body armor.

"Pete and Gavin, your whistles," Leon said. "Arthur, the paint… the rest is mine – Merlin, you have what you need? Let's test the radios." The knights double-checked to be sure that each earpiece and collar-mounted mic was working, though they had already done so before leaving Gwaine's apartment.

"It's two thirty-five," Arthur said, checking his watch. "Back here in one hour. Contingency, seven-thirty at Gwaine's. If we lose contact, no phones til four-thirty, earliest." He paused a moment to meet everyone's eye in the moonlight, wait for the confirming nod. Merlin's head remained down, and the knights exchanged uneasy looks until Arthur glared at them, reminding them that he was in charge of Merlin. "Peter, Gavin," he clasped each man's hand in turn, "Northeast and northwest." The two nodded, butted fists before disappearing into the trees in opposite directions, and Arthur was pleased and proud that he could hear neither after they were out of sight.

"All right," Arthur said to Leon and Merlin. "On me."

It was the first time he'd ever done anything like it – in this life, at least. He'd wanted to join ROTC in college, but Thomas Drake wouldn't hear of it. Maybe, he thought, slipping through the darkness tree to tree, ascending the gradual ridge, he should have taken karate, ju jitsu, knife-throwing. Equestrian and fencing lessons may have seemed the right thing for the former king of Camelot at sixteen years old, but at that moment, Arthur found himself wishing he'd been a little less romantic, and a little more practical.

In their earpieces, each heard Gwaine and Percival's quiet conversation as those two knights crept into position. "_Seem too easy?"_ Percival murmured.

"_Nah_," Gwaine replied. "_Half their defense is no one knowing it's here. More technology just draws attention."_

"That's our luck," Leon whispered in the darkness behind Arthur.

He was pleased to see that old habits and training were still ingrained. He dropped lower as they reached the crest of the ridge, coming to rest on his belly. Below them they could see the floodlights on the small hangar, at each corner, and a smaller one over the door to one side. Merlin settled in beside him, slightly less clumsy than he had been on certain previous hunting trips, and Leon passed Arthur a spotting scope over Merlin's back. He dabbed a trickle of sweat off his temple onto his sleeve, careful of the grease paint, regretting the necessity of long-sleeve shirts in June, and scanned the area, seeing nothing to arouse suspicion. The guards and the dog were in the better-lit front area, one lounging in a camp chair, the other pacing with the leashed dog, a German Shepherd. And just below them down the gentle slope of the ridge, the southwest corner of the fence – eight electric strands five feet high, topped by three of barbed wire for good measure. Arthur noticed two small yellow triangles attached to the posts to warn of the voltage.

"Time?" Arthur whispered, the scope to his eye.

"Give them – seven minutes to start," Leon responded.

Merlin shifted in the leaves, bumping against Arthur's left side. Arthur turned to him. "What are you worried about?" he said. For a moment Merlin didn't answer, and Leon reached for the spotting scope again, to give the two friends some semblance of privacy for a brief conversation. "Don't you trust us to keep you safe?" _His_ Merlin, _magic_ Merlin, would have teased him about his weight or the level of mental agility any given knight could aspire to. Arthur now knew Merlin's sarcasm was for Arthur's claim of providing safety for the most powerful sorcerer in history, and meant to cover Merlin's own nervousness about the responsibility for _their_ safety his power gave him.

Merlin said, "It's not that. I just – I never had friends before. I guess you could say I'm scared something might happen to one of you."

Silence, in the warm humid dark of the night. Arthur was touched – or knocked over, more like – by the admission. The feelings and instincts were essentially the same in the young man – but this Merlin chose to admit and reveal. Why? Reasons swirled through Arthur's mind, differences in childhood, upbringing and situation, differences the centuries themselves had brought about in what was culturally and socially acceptable.

The one thought that bothered Arthur deeply was, _maybe it's me_. Maybe Merlin's honesty was a response to Arthur's intentional kindness and regard. That meant the sorcerer's former deception was in response to –

"There go the whistles," Leon said, quietly, handing the scope to Arthur again. "Don't worry, Merlin, we know what we're doing. These vests are just a precaution. We don't expect any fighting. They probably won't know we've been here til we're gone."

Arthur checked the scene in front of him. The dog's ears were up, pointing first to the northeast, then flickering around to the northwest. Several moments passed as the guards noticed the dog's behavior and spoke to each other, finally seemed to laugh it off.

Then the furry heavily-muscled body lunged against the leash toward the eastern side of the fence. His handler held him back with an effort, speaking again to his companion, who shrugged, but sat forward in the camp chair. After another pause, wherein the dog relaxed under his handler's soothing, another inaudible alert drew the dog's attention forcibly to the north. The leash almost snapped from the man's hand. The second guard stood from the camp chair, placing a hand on his holstered sidearm. The two exchanged words, then the handler allowed the German Shepherd to pull him across the mown grass toward the northeast corner of the property.

"_They're coming our way_," Gwaine's whisper came to them through their earpieces. "_We'll keep them occupied_."

"Be careful," Arthur responded again, and signaled to his two companions.

Arthur, followed by Merlin and Leon, moved over the top of the ridge. Leon cut slightly to the left toward the southeast corner of the fence, where it would be easier to disrupt the electrical current. Arthur kept the guard in sight as the man stood with hands on hips, watching in the direction his fellow guard and the dog had gone. Arthur wondered idly if that man was Fred Acheson. The dog barked incessantly; Arthur hoped the other two would keep their heads down.

Beside him, Merlin crouched on one knee, while Leon worked to bypass the fence. Two steel rods, shoved firmly into the ground about a yard apart, then leaned against the same strand to ground the current, so the wire could be cut with wooden-handled wire cutters. Leon wore rubber gloves, and boots with thick rubber soles to steady the current-grounding rods. Taking each strand individually, and trapping the loose wires under the steel rods to one side, Leon soon had a gap big enough for them to pass through carefully one by one. "We're inside the fence," the former knight reported to Percival and Gwaine.

They made their way up the hill to the back of the hangar. Heart pounding, Arthur listened and heard nothing from the guard left at the front, though the barking of the German Shepherd was pretty clear from only fifty yards away. He leaned around the side of the hangar – still no guard in sight – and signaled to Leon, who passed him, taser in his hand. They ghosted along the side of the hangar, Leon in the lead, Merlin in the middle, and reached the access door. Leon leaned slightly away from the building to keep an eye on the guard out front, while Merlin knelt by the door to work on the electronic lock combination.

"Decker, whaddya see?" the guard shouted to his partner from beyond the corner of the building. Arthur, whose eyes were on Merlin, was proud to see the young sorcerer didn't even flinch at the sudden shout. He was fast, and he was quiet. Leon's body language indicated the nearest guard did not suspect their presence. The door slipped open, and Arthur pushed Merlin inside, following him and closing the door behind them. The racket the dog was making was instantly muffled.

Arthur knew from the building construction notes that the only window was a narrow vertical rectangle just above the access door's handle. Taking the can of black spray paint from the leg pocket of his black cargo pants, he shook it quickly and sprayed over the window til he could not longer see the outside light. Leon would monitor the guard and warn them if necessary – and no light would spill from the building to alert the guard.

It would also provide incontrovertible evidence that the drone hangar had been broken into.

Merlin flicked the light switch, and Arthur turned, blinking in the sudden overhead glare.

The hangar was empty. Except for one sleek white drone in the far corner, looking like a fantastically imagined paper airplane half the size of Arthur's Mustang, held two feet off the ground by a three-pronged stand. Five other stands in the hangar held nothing but air.

"Where are they?" Merlin whispered. "There are supposed to be six?" He snatched his laptop from his satchel and huddled over it on the concrete floor to free his fingers for more of his rapid typing, ripping off his black gloves with his teeth – though he also wore a pair of surgical gloves underneath to keep from leaving fingerprints.

"Have they been moved?" Arthur whispered back, approaching the UAV. "Maybe for Monday's test?"

After ten seconds of flurried keystrokes, Merlin's hands froze. "If they have been, it wasn't by official order," he reported, sounding frightened. "Stolen, you think?"

Arthur gritted his teeth. Yes, probably – but by who? No one willing to steal such a thing from such a place wanted a backyard toy. And how? Sneaking in for a quick look like they were doing was one thing, but these drones didn't exactly fit in a back pocket. How could a theft be accomplished with no report from the guards, at least? Did they even know it was gone? Arthur studied the last drone – left, presumably, so Monday's test could continue as planned. Although, what would happen when the truck arrived for pick up and transfer, and the other five drones were discovered to be missing?

"Gaius said these are single-target assassin drones, right?" Arthur said, turning to frown at the young sorcerer, still kneeling on the concrete, laptop forgotten as its owner stared somewhat vacantly at the drone. Arthur knew that look. He'd learned that instead of absent-minded forgetfulness he'd often teased Merlin about, that look meant the wheels inside were turning a mile a minute. Merlin grunted. "Then what the hell is this for?" Arthur touched the drone carefully.

Tucked under one wing, constructed and painted to appear as an integral part of the drone, four tubes connected in a square shape, each three inches in diameter, each with a pointed nosecone like a rocket.

Merlin leaped up with laptop in hand, brushed past Arthur without apology to scramble underneath the drone. He eased open an access panel under the craft's belly, extracted a connective cable from his satchel, and plugged his laptop into a port in the drone. He held the laptop between his knees so he could type and watch the screen even lying on his back.

"Hell _fire_," Merlin whispered.

"What is it?" Arthur said.

Merlin's eyes moved from his laptop screen to the cluster of tubes – and fear shone from eyes made brighter by the mix of olive and black paint darkening Merlin's skin. His hand shook as he disconnected the cord with extreme care, and he clutched the laptop to his chest, making no move to rise.

In that moment, the clamor of the German Shepherd changed tenor, as a short pop sounded, echoing oddly in their earpieces. They heard Gwaine hiss, "_Get out – oh, _sh-" and the former knight's mic cut out to a stuttering of muffled pops, accompanied by somewhat clearer shouts from the guard remaining at the hangar.

"Is that –" Merlin said.

"Gunfire," Arthur finished. "Do we have what we need?" Merlin nodded, and Arthur yanked his friend clear of the drone. He bundled the laptop into Merlin's satchel, snagged the gloves from the floor, and shoved Merlin to the door. Snapping off the lights, he eased the door open.

"Decker!" the guard shouted, obviously trying to communicate with the partner who was discharging his firearm, without leaving the immediate vicinity of the hangar. "_Decker_!"

Leon crouched slightly at his post at the corner of the building to make sure they remained undetected. The gunshots were louder out-of-doors, single shots, though, not coming in rapid-fire bursts, which relieved Arthur. Without taking his eyes from his watch, Leon motioned Arthur and Merlin to retreat.

"We're done," Arthur whispered, touching the button to transmit. "We're _out_. Gwaine, Perce – withdraw."

"_Roger that_," Percival replied, sounding tense. "_Neither of us is hit. See you back at the truck."_

One, then two more shots from the fifty-yard distant fence corner. The dog barked, yapping maniacally. Leon backpedaled along the side of the hangar, bumping into Merlin, who seemed slower and clumsier than he'd been all night, as if suddenly and inexplicably reluctant to leave. "Come on, move it!" Arthur hissed, and Leon elbowed the teenager out of the cover of the hangar, down the slope toward the gap in the fence.

"Decker!" The shout behind them seemed clearer, louder. Arthur dared not turn, barreling down toward the fence and making sure Merlin – who was trying to move forward and look over his shoulder at the same time – kept going in front of him.

"Decker! _They're inside the fence_!"

Leon bellowed, "Run!" The word seemed to hang in the air for an inordinate amount of time.

Someone – something – _punched_ Arthur in the back with enough force to knock him off his feet. He flew forward, his shoulder grazing Merlin's as the sorcerer tried to catch him, break his fall, before his body slammed to the earth, accompanied by an abnormally loud _CRACK_! He wondered if he'd broken a bone. He tried to breathe around a face-full of yellowing field grass.

Shots were fired. Arthur shook his head to clear it, realizing Leon and Merlin were both standing targets – still inside the fence and a good twelve yards from the cover of the tree-lined ridge; neither of them would leave him behind even if he ordered it. Bad luck they were already out of range for Leon to fire his taser.

Maybe next time, he thought confusedly, they should go armed. A few warning shots might provide better cover for their departure.

Arthur rolled over. Leon knelt, fumbling to help Arthur regain his feet, searching his king's eyes, his face, for indication of a more serious injury. Arthur's ears rang – distant shouts, the dog howling… he noticed the stars were quite brilliant.

Merlin stood above them, one foot forward and one back, bracing himself, his arms out as if to embrace the scene before him.

Then the young sorcerer threw back his head and _roared -_ Fury personified.

An eye-dazzling light lifted, bloomed over the hangar like a pyrotechnics display twenty feet off the ground. Arthur struggled to raise himself on his elbows as each of the five sets of lights illuminating the hangar exploded in a shower of radiant sparks. Smaller fireworks cracked along the fence as the wiring shorted. He put up one arm to shield his eyes from the painful brightness. The after-image etched onto his retinas made it harder to see once the sparks had fallen and died in the new blackness of the night. _Bring the shadows light_…

Arthur was yanked to his feet. He recognized Leon's voice, but understood no words. A patch of skin on his right hip burned – probably where he'd landed when he fell. His left arm throbbed in a strangely numb way.

"Go sire – now!" He understood Leon's words finally, loud in the abrupt silence of the night. Arthur turned to grab Merlin and force him bodily through the gap of the fence, Leon's breathing audible behind them.

In his ear he heard Gwaine, _"Whatthehellwhatthehell_…"

Leon responded, "We're all right. _Get to the truck_."

Merlin stumbled going up the ridge to the tree-line, scrambling awkwardly – and _so_ slowly – on all fours. Leon passed Arthur and grabbed the collar of Merlin's flak vest, dragging him along to the cover of the trees.

At the top of the ridge, Arthur paused for a look back at the hangar site, but could see nothing – and hear nothing. No shouting. No barking.

Leon was making all the noise, crashing through the underbrush with Merlin in tow. Arthur sprinted after them and the three of them lurched almost drunkenly to the Silverado.

Not for the first time, and surely not for the last, Arthur was glad to have Leon there. The former knight crammed the last of their equipment into the black duffel bag – gloves, wire-cutters, spotting scope – and tossed it into the back of the truck. He helped Arthur out of his vest first; Arthur couldn't quite bite back a moan as the heavy armor pulled his left arm back, and Leon examined the vest before discarding it.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, running his hand down Arthur's back in the charcoal darkness. "I don't think you're bleeding."

"Just bruised, probably," Arthur said. As Leon turned his attention to removing his own vest, Arthur focused on Merlin, who'd propped himself against the truck, breathing hard through his nose and trembling.

"Let's get this off," Arthur said. "Percival and Gwaine will be here any minute." He unzipped his friend's vest, pulling it back so Merlin could shrug out of it. His friend hissed as his own left arm cleared the armor. "Are you bruised as well?" Arthur said lightly, forcing some amusement into his voice.

Merlin didn't answer, but bent nearly double, one hand fisted in the front of Arthur's shirt for support, and vomited violently and repeatedly.

"Arthur?" Leon said.

"It's all right," Arthur said to Merlin, comforting him but awkwardly, supporting his friend, who, shaking and disoriented, might otherwise have collapsed on the spot. "We're safe now."

"What happened?" Percival's voice demanded from the far side of the truck. A heavy metallic _thunk_ told Arthur that the big knight had removed and stowed his own Kevlar.

"What was _that_?" Gwaine said, nearly on top of them before Arthur heard him, already carrying his own body armor, which he tossed into the truck.

"_Get in_," Leon said. "We can talk once we're away from here."

Percival started the engine. Gwaine helped Arthur steer Merlin into the second seat, then slammed the suicide door and took the shotgun position himself. Leon slid into the seat behind Percival, helping to keep Merlin upright.

The tires spun on the gravel, then they gained the road and sped away from the site. The cd played incongruously in the silence, but the sound was low enough no one remarked on it. _When you are a soldier, I will be your shield/ I will go with you into the battlefield… _

"I don't think he saw me," Gwaine broke the silence, glancing over at Percival. "I think he started shooting at shadows." _And when the arrows start to fly/ take my hand and hold on tight… _

Percival took one hand from the wheel to reach into a storage space in the center console. He took out a plastic packet and handed it to Gwaine, who snatched several cloths from the packet before tossing it back to Leon. The scent of baby powder filled the cab of the truck.

"Baby wipes?" Arthur said. _When you're tired from running/ I will cheer you on/ Look beside you and you'll see you're not alone_…

"Best thing to take off the paint," Gwaine answered. "What about you guys? Find out anything in the hangar?"

Arthur accepted the packet from Leon. The former king began to clean the black and olive grease from his former servant's face, as Merlin's hands lay limp in his lap. "Five of the six drones are gone," Arthur said, and the other three offered various exclamations of surprise.

_When your strength is all but gone/ I'll carry you until you're strong_… Merlin was still shivering under Arthur's hands, despite the physical exertion in the warm summer night. His eyes were only half-open, his breath hissing between clenched teeth. He began to slide toward Leon, but when the knight nudged Merlin back upright, the young sorcerer let out a gasp of pain, his eyes flaring open briefly.

"Percival, the light!" Arthur commanded at the same time as Leon said, "Arthur, he's hurt."

"Merlin – you all right?" Gwaine said, turning in his seat. Percival flipped on the dome light.

Merlin moaned as Leon examined him, his head dropping back against the rear window. "His arm is bleeding," the knight announced, and ripped Merlin's sleeve right off the shirt. Arthur leaned forward – crimson streaks marred the white skin of Merlin's arm, dripped down his elbow.

"How bad?" Arthur said. _When you're lost in darkness I will hold the light/ I will help you find your way through the night_…

"Not very. It's just a graze," Leon answered, applying the torn sleeve to Merlin's bicep as a bandage.

"Now we have something in common, mate," Gwaine said, slapping Merlin's knee lightly. "Hurts like hell, doesn't it?"

Merlin said, "_Arthur_," and inhaled sharply, then slumped sideways onto Arthur, the weight of his head and body sending shock-waves of pain through Arthur's left side. He held on to his friend grimly.

"That was him, wasn't it?" Percival said into the shocked, uncertain silence. "That – storm of electricity."

When no one else answered – "Yes," Leon said. "Arthur had been shot –"

"What?" Gwaine all but shouted.

The truck swerved minutely. Percival demanded, "Arthur was _shot_?"

_His shoulder_. "The vest stopped the bullet," Leon explained calmly. "But he was down, and that guard was still shooting. Merlin did what he had to do." _Just like he always does_.

Arthur said, "Leon, I promised Gwen I'd let her know that we were safe. And can you call Gaius? We should take Merlin there, first thing. Gwaine, when we get back, you monitor the reports coming in to Camelot from the hangar site."

"I can't," Leon said, making no move for the cell phone in his pocket. "My phone is fried – just about melted. I'd be very much surprised if yours is in any better shape, sire. Gwaine might have been far enough away that his is still usable, though."

Arthur thought of the burning sensation he'd felt on his right hip – right where he kept his phone. Steven Curtis Chapman kept singing, though Merlin had lost consciousness… _I'll remind you of the truth/ And keep the flame alive in you_…

"I'll make the calls," Gwaine said, taking his phone out.

Arthur felt for the pulse in Merlin's neck. It fluttered like a panicky moth, then slowed to a sluggish chug…chug…chug.

_No_, Arthur told him fiercely_. You're not going anywhere._

_I will be your shield… when you are a soldier_…

***Rough translation: "Lay me down in the cold cold ground, where before many more have gone…" a WWII song from the viewpoint of a soldier already dead. (We Were Soldiers soundtrack – you can probably tell I was listening to it while writing this chapter – but it was so perfect!) **

**A big cookie pie to those who get the Shawn Mullins reference. And credit to Revolution for the dog-whistle idea.**

**Special thanks to my 'regular' reviewers! You know who you are!**

**I noticed that not all symbols/letters I used in the text messages transferred when I uploaded…that's a small problem, I think you can still get the gist. And I am sorry to those who have trouble with this due to English language difficulties (that never occurred to me!) I can probably make the changes if it really has put anyone off.**

**To the guest reviewer from Dec.9, I find myself growing attached to this version of Merlin as Arthur is, also… so I keep putting off full memory recovery for him! I had intended for the 'real' Merlin to return some few chapters ago, but… gee, he's just so cute like this… and the more I have of this one, the harder it gets to reconcile the two personalities…hmm**


	11. Sharing Secrets

**Okay, my last chapter was LONG, so I cut it off the first place that made sense – and rereading it, I realize I left quite a cliffy! Sorry about that. Hopefully the quick update makes it okay. **

**Btw, if anyone noticed that Arthur called Percival and Gwaine by name **_**after**_** returning to the truck, it's because they were all under a lot of stress, and he didn't think to use their 'modern' names for Merlin's benefit…and Merlin didn't seem to notice… so they all have kind of dropped the use of their modern names…**

**In other news – we've passed 100 reviews (100 fols, almost 50 favs)! Thanks guys! It's like an intravenous shot of confidence!**

Chapter 11: Sharing Secrets

Gaius was waiting on the porch when they pulled up to the townhouse. Gwaine and Leon both jumped from the truck to help Arthur ease Merlin's unconscious body from the vehicle, while Percival waited in the driver's seat.

"How is he, sire?" the old physician called, opening the door for them.

"It's just a graze, Gaius," Leon said. "Upper left arm."

Gaius' eyebrow lifted as he studied the limp form of his grandson supported between two knights. "What else happened?" he demanded sternly.

"He did magic," Arthur said wearily, climbing the stairs behind them.

"Sire, with all due respect, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with Merlin accompanying you if you're going to return him in this condition –"

Leon interrupted the old physician's rebuke, calling from the base of the staircase, "Gaius, be sure you take a look at Arthur's shoulder, also – he was shot."

Gaius swung around, mouth open in astonishment. Arthur mumbled, "That's why it's called _bulletproof_…" pushing around the old physician to escape his expression.

He trailed along upstairs as Gwaine and Leon deposited Merlin on the bed in his room with infinite care, and Gaius hurried further down the upstairs hall, presumably fetching medical supplies.

"He'll be all right," Gwaine predicted, passing Arthur at the door.

Leon paused. "What about the drones, Arthur?" he said in a low voice.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. Gaius shouldered his way between them, grumbling under his breath, and switched on a desk lamp, positioning it to give him the best light to work with. "I think Merlin made some discovery just before…" he grimaced in dissatisfaction at having to say it, "just before the shooting started." Gaius gave them a _look_, one eyebrow raised in strict censure, as he checked his grandson's pulse and pupil dilation. "We'll see what he can tell us in the morning," Arthur decided. "No, Gaius, don't give me that look. I'd let him sleep a month of Sundays if I could, but –"

"You need him," Gaius finished the sentence with a sigh and a nod.

"What about your father?" Leon said.

"We'll wait to inform him, also, see if he gets reports from the guards," Arthur said. "He threatened to fire Merlin – to prosecute him… I wouldn't be at all surprised if he had the lot of you arrested when – if," he corrected, "if we tell him what we found."

Gaius snipped the black-sleeve bandage off Merlin's arm, catching the renewed ooze of blood-flow with a wad of gauze, and began to clean the wound with an alcohol swab. Merlin flinched, blinking and stirring. "Arthur?" he said thickly, and Arthur moved immediately into the room.

"I'm all right, Merlin," he reassured his friend. "I'm right here." Noticing the bits of grass and leaf mold flaking from Merlin's boots onto the blue-striped comforter of the bed, Arthur began to unlace them in order to remove them.

"You were shot," Merlin murmured, not fully conscious. The bruises on his face blended into a smear or two of paint Arthur had missed in the dim light of the truck cab, contrasting sharply with the whiteness of his skin under the lamplight. "In the back."

Arthur chuckled. "I was shot in the _vest_," he corrected. "I'm fine. Kevlar is so much better than chainmail for protection."

"Mm," Merlin answered drowsily, letting his head droop sideways on the pillow. "But bullets are faster than arrows, sire."

Gaius jerked upright to stare at Merlin. Leon touched Arthur's shoulder. Arthur took a deep breath and said, "If you think an injury means I'll let you have a day off– "

"Arthur," Merlin mumbled, his eyes dropping shut, "it's _Saturday_."

Arthur's heart plummeted. Leon let out the breath he'd been holding.

Arthur turned to his former right-hand knight. "You guys get some sleep, get cleaned up," he said. "We'll reconvene tomorrow morning at ten? I'll bring Merlin and come to you at Gwaine's –"

"You'll do no such thing," Gaius interrupted. "You can have your meeting here."

….. *….. *….. *….. *….. *….. *….. *….. *…..

Arthur was dreaming. In his dream, he sat at his father's desk in Camelot, lounging back in the comfortably padded desk chair. On the cluttered desk he could see two things clearly – a framed photograph of Guinevere in a strapless white gown, smiling like she'd just won the lottery, and a glossy new brochure featuring photos of three men, grinning and confident – Percival, Gwaine, and Elyan.

He looked up as the office door opened, and Merlin sauntered in, casual and comfortable, in gray trousers and vest over a collared shirt, irreverent grin in place – though with an air of added _maturity_ - and seated himself on the corner of the big mahogany desk. He snapped his fingers and the computer screen to Arthur's left lit up, flickered through a dozen images while Merlin spoke to Arthur, the impertinence of his expression sobering only partially. Behind him, the door pushed open as Leon put his head in to ask a question. Merlin answered him, turned to Arthur and said –

"Rise and shine!" The voice was wrong, somehow – deeper than Merlin's should be. Arthur forced his eyes open to blink at a blurry image of a grinning face surrounded by dark hair.

"Merlin?" he croaked.

"No, sorry. Wakey, wakey, princess."

Gwaine. "Leave me alone," Arthur grumbled, his senses awakening in spite of himself. He discovered himself face-down on Gaius' couch, his feet hanging over the far armrest. Someone grabbed his arm – his left arm - and tugged, sending jolts of pain through his body. He gasped and snarled, "Get the hell off me!"

Gwaine said to someone, "I have more appreciation for Merlin, now – he _is_ surly in the morning."

"Arthur." Leon's voice. "I brought clothes for you. It's nine-thirty. Saturday morning." Arthur sighed and rolled off the couch. He felt stiff, and his shoulder ached dully. The smell of the cream Gaius had rubbed into his bruised muscles only a few hours earlier seemed a headache-inducing mix of mothballs and Old Spice.

"There's coffee, Arthur," Gaius called from the kitchen. He dragged himself to the guest half-bath under the stairs, washed and changed, but didn't feel quite himself until halfway through his second cup of coffee.

"Gwaine," he said. The former knight looked up from his place on the couch, where Leon on the game controller was demonstrating progress he'd made on re-creating Camelot on Minecraft. "What word from the hangar?"

Gwaine stood and came to lean on the kitchen counter. "Nothing," he said. "I mean, not _nothing_, but – one of the day-shift guards called in sick, and there was a routine maintenance report for a line down."

"Nothing about a break-in?" Arthur said. "Nothing about missing drones?"

"Not a word." Gwaine glanced up at Gaius in the kitchen. "It seems Merlin was right about that guard."

A muffled thudding sounded from the stairway, accompanied by the jingle of dog tags, and the little white Scotty darted across the room, leaped to the stool beside Arthur. "Can you say that again, and louder?" Merlin said sleepily, coming into view.

The knights greeted him enthusiastically, which seemed to confuse him – whether because he hadn't expected them all to be there, or because he wasn't comfortable with so much goodwill at once, Arthur couldn't tell. He was dressed in his green plaid pajama pants with a faded denim-colored t-shirt, which made him look even younger compared to the knights in their jeans – Leon in khaki cargo pants – than he was. He'd washed and removed the black nail polish, but the wrist-band remained in place, just down his arm from the white bandage around his bicep. Arthur, knowing what to look for, saw the white line of the longest scar below the black leather as Merlin accepted the full mug of coffee his grandfather offered. Leon set the game controller on the coffee table and got up from the couch, followed by Percival.

Gaius unplugged the coffee maker. "What do you remember, Merlin?" he questioned, before turning to shift the microwave and unplug it as well.

Merlin said to Arthur, "You were shot." He scooped up the Scotty so he could drop down on the stool, keeping the pet curled comfortably in one arm, where it proceeded to lick and lick at his hand. Gaius stepped closer to the refrigerator and unplugged a cell phone charger.

"Yeah," Arthur said. "Got a nice purple bruise on my shoulder blade – wanna see?" Merlin yawned and shook his head. "How do you feel?"

"Alive and awake."

"The drones," Arthur said. "What did you find out?"

Merlin took a deep breath, let it out, then drank the rest of his coffee down as if it was water. "Cyclotetramethylene-tetranitramine," he pronounced as if it was a word he said everyday. "Octogen. HMX. Those rockets under the wings. Eight to a drone."

"_Merlin_," Gaius said, aghast. "Are you sure?"

"What is it?" Arthur said.

"HMX is an explosive, sire," Gaius said after a moment of shocked silence. "About twenty-five percent more potent than TNT. With eight missiles you could – you could –" The old man stopped, silenced by the enormity of the thought.

"You could take out D.C.," Leon said, and Percival nodded. "You control the drone remotely so the operator is never at risk, and choose the eight most important targets in the city –"

"Targets?" Arthur said.

"Military, government, commerce, population – anything," Gwaine realized.

"How the hell did this happen?" Arthur said. "And who –"

"There's more," Merlin said, wincing as he lifted his left arm to rub his eyes. "The remaining drone has been hardwired to respond to a piggy-backed network signal."

"Which means…" Arthur said.

Merlin stood slowly, allowing the Scotty to jump down from his lap, then stepped to the slider to open it and let the dog out to the backyard. "It means all six drones will launch simultaneously, whenever the sixth one is instructed to do so," Merlin said. "From wherever they are. And the GPS will show the drone's official flight path – not its actual location."

"So when it's sent off…" Percival said.

"Camelot and the DoD will think it's on its test flight path," Gwaine continued.

"When in reality it will be delivering those missiles," Leon realized.

"Wherever the hell that hacker – or whoever – wants them," Merlin finished. "Along with the other five."

"Six different targets?" Arthur said. "And all at once…" He felt sick to his stomach.

"What will we do?" Leon said, eyes on Arthur.

"Well, for starters, we'll have to –" Arthur was interrupted by a knock on the door, and a sweet voice calling down the hall, "Gaius?"

"Come in, Gwen," Gaius answered, bending over beside the computer desk to unplug both the machine, and the floor lamp beside it.

She came around the corner, two dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts in flat boxes balanced on her hand, and laughed at Gwaine's vocal praise, echoed more quietly – though no less gratefully – by Percival and Leon. She came to give Arthur a quick kiss and a cuddle inside the circle of his arms.

"I'm glad you're all right," she told him, her dark eyes bright with emotion. When Arthur released her, she went to hug Merlin also, reaching around his ribs to hold him tight. He looked astonished and uncomfortable, and patted her shoulder awkwardly.

" 'M fine," he mumbled. "Just a scratch." She pulled back to search his face. He forced a laugh and added by way of a joke, "I'm glad it's my _left_ arm, anyway."

Gwen's brows drew down. "Because you're right-handed?" she said. "Does it hurt you when you use it that much?"

"No – if it was my right arm, it might've messed up Kilgarrah," Merlin answered, looked down at her. The radio buzzed briefly, then Montgomery Gentry came into focus clearly, but softly… _Didn't I burn, didn't I bleed enough for you_…

In the kitchen, Gaius' mug clattered and splashed coffee as he dropped it into the sink. "Who?" Arthur asked, looking from the old physician to his grandson.

Gwaine began to laugh. "You _named_ your _tattoo_?" he said.

Merlin looked up at them – all watching him – and confusion and fear spread across his face. "Merlin – who's Kilgarrah?" Arthur said.

"I don't know," Merlin said. His arms dropped away from Gwen, his hands pressing against the glass of the slider behind him. _I've faced your fears,_ the song on the radio whispered…_ Felt pain, so you won't have to… _

"Arthur," Gaius said. "Kilgarrah is – was – the Great Dragon."

"How does Merlin know that?" Arthur said.

"You'll have to ask him," Gaius said. Leaving the kitchen, he made his way to the entertainment center on the bookshelf to unplug the whole system.

"The Great Dragon," Leon said suddenly, and pointed at Merlin. "You rode out with us to fight it. We didn't expect to survive the encounter…" The former knight didn't add, _Don't you remember_, but they all heard the question in his voice.

Arthur thought momentarily, _maybe this isn't the best time for this_, as Merlin's eyes flicked from one to another like a trapped wild thing. _Maybe this is the _only_ time for this – he'll be safer if he remembers his magic…_

He turned deliberately away, caught the other knights' attention, and signaled to them what he wanted, hiding the motions from Merlin with his body. Gwaine backed up to lean in the doorway of the front hall almost nonchalantly. Leon eased toward Merlin as Percival took up position in the corner to block the pane of glass Merlin had once walked through. _Yeah, didn't I do my best/ And wasn't home here when I left?_

Warily, Merlin watched them all move, until Arthur leaned close to force eye contact. "Merlin," he said softly. Two sides of one coin. "_Don't you remember_?"

Something flickered in those deep blue depths – Arthur glimpsed a longing so profound, a hope so faint and yet so vital – it almost left him gasping for breath. Gwen reached to touch Merlin's bare arm, and he flinched away like she'd stuck him hard with a pin. He dodged around Arthur to the other end of the kitchen counter, pale and breathing hard.

"I don't – I don't know what you mean," he choked out.

"I am Arthur," Arthur said. "This is my Queen." Gwen smiled tremulously at the pale sorcerer, coming to stand at Arthur's side. "These are my knights of the Round Table." He gestured to the other three men.

"Why are you saying this?" Merlin whispered, cringing away from Arthur's gaze. He put his fists up beside his temples. The Montgomery Gentry song dissolved into a crescendo of static.

"Your grandfather is my court physician," Arthur continued. He hated that his words – as true as _truth_ – hurt his friend, but… they felt so _right_ to finally say. "And you – you have magic. _My sorcerer_."

_I use it for you, Arthur – only for you_… The words rang out between them, unspoken.

"Why are you saying this?" Merlin said again, raising his voice. The printer chugged like it had no paper remaining for a print job. The tv flickered as though someone was channel-surfing at top speed, with accompanying changes in volume. "_Why are you mocking me_?"

"I'm not," Arthur said, softly but clearly. "You're my friend." He approached the sorcerer step by deliberate step. Maybe it was cruel to use his own dying words, but he wanted _so badly_ to reach Merlin. "And I don't want to lose you_. I can't lose you_."

"Shut up!" Merlin cried, twisting away. "Shutupshutupshutup! It's _not_ true it _never_ was true you're _not_ him I'm _not_ him my name is _marvin_ and there's _no such thing as magic_!" He was shouting at the top of his voice by the time he finished.

"Merlin!" Gaius called above the chaotic white noise of the townhouse's electronics. "Please, calm down!"

Merlin rounded on the old man violently. "_It's not me_!" he screamed. "I'm not doing anything!"

"My boy," the physician entreated with the utmost kindness, "everything is unplugged."

Merlin jerked back as though the old man had slapped his face. Instant silence reigned. Gwaine – the only other Arthur could see in his peripheral vision – glanced nervously at his two companions by the glass door.

"Come," Gaius said gently. "Come, sit down for a minute." Merlin allowed the old man to pull him to the couch, sit beside him. Merlin's eyes were blank and dark in the whiteness of his face and he allowed himself to be led and maneuvered like a sleepwalker. Gwen passed Arthur hesitantly to take the seat at Merlin's other side, slide her hand into his.

"When I first saw you," the old man said brokenly, "you saved my life – that fall from the balcony would have killed me."

It was impossible to tell, from Merlin's expression, whether he heard or not.

Gwen said to him, so softly Arthur almost couldn't hear, "You were in the stocks when I introduced myself. You didn't seem to mind the people of Camelot throwing tomatoes at you – like it was all in good fun. I told you, I thought you were very brave."

Gwaine left the doorway to perch on the coffee table, knee-to-knee with Gaius, and touching his young friend's green-plaid covered leg. Arthur drifted sideways to take Gwaine's place, sitting on the bottom step of the staircase.

"I remember a fight in the tavern," the rough knight said lightly. "The odds were against us… Wasting good ale smashing that jug on some guy's head. You were throwing plates…" _Plates_? Arthur wasn't sure he remembered that. But yes, that sounded like Merlin.

Leon left the slider, and Percival followed him, both knights moving to the rear of the couch as Merlin sat back, away from Gwaine, his eyes unfocused, his face tense. Leon said, "I remember nights out on patrol, teasing you about your stew, pretending we ate it all and left none for you, telling you it was too –"

"Too salty," Merlin whispered. A tear dropped from the corner of his eye, brushing his cheek as it fell. Leon leaned down to put a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

The biggest knight said, "I remember a Round Table." Another tear followed the first down Merlin's face. Gwen was crying silently, too. "We were a handful planning an attack against an immortal army. I said to our king, _your enemies are my enemies_." Percival covered Merlin's other shoulder with one big hand.

Arthur's mouth was dry, and his heart was pounding. He remembered that moment distinctly. He stood from the carpeted stair, and rounded Gwaine to stand in front of Merlin and Gwen, sympathetically squeezing her friend's hand and watching his face hopefully.

"Everyone stood but you," he said. "You had no need to proclaim your loyalty." His voice sounded hoarse to him. "But I – I needed to hear it anyway. I said… _Merlin_?" His attempt to recreate the tone he'd used – something like expectant sarcasm - failed utterly. "You said…"

"Don't fancy it," Merlin whispered, his eyes still vague, focused somewhere over Arthur's shoulder. "And you said –"

"You have a choice, Merlin," Arthur told him, past a painful lump in his throat. He meant it, too. If Merlin chose to continue oblivious, Arthur would not fault him. "You _always_ have a choice."

Merlin's gaze drifted sideways, until his blue eyes locked onto Arthur's, and came alive. He nodded at Arthur, managed a husky whisper. "All right, then." He was willing. He was always willing, no matter what it required of him. _In the wake abandon willing sacrifice…_

A surge of pure and affectionate gratitude for the loyalty of his friend swelled in Arthur's heart, and he reached down to ruffle Merlin's black hair.

At his touch, Merlin's eyes closed, his body stiffened – Arthur realized they were all touching him at once. Merlin's arms flew out to the sides – Gwen and Gaius twitched back to avoid being struck – his hands splayed with such sudden tension that his fingers bent backwards. He inhaled, a dry ragged sound, his lungs filling slowly and inexorably, like his body would consume all the oxygen in the room.

Everyone else froze.

Merlin rose to his feet, Arthur's hand still on his head, like a puppet that the king lifted. As one, the others released their hold on the sorcerer, and Arthur let his hand drop also.

Merlin exhaled in a soft sigh. Then he opened his eyes. "Arthur," he said only, as if they were alone in the room.

"Yes." Arthur waited, his heart hammering in his chest.

"You're alive." Simply, almost childishly spoken.

"Yes." He felt like they'd just plunged over the first hill of a roller-coaster…dropping with hilarious exhilaration.

"It's good to see you again." Merlin nodded once, as if confirming something to himself. "Please excuse me, sire." He stepped past Arthur, who let him go, not knowing what else to do, and walked carefully to the stairs. He ascended them with the same deliberation, and a moment later they heard his bedroom door close.

The roller-coaster reached the bottom of the hill and stalled out. Arthur looked down at Gaius, who wore a dumbfounded expression. The others exchanged glances as if to ask, _what just happened_?

"Is that it?" Gwaine said. "Is that all it took?"

"What do you mean, is that all it took?" Arthur snapped. His head felt heavy, and the throbbing in his shoulder spread down his arm and up his neck. "In which century is that considered normal behavior for Merlin?"

Overhead, the lights flickered. Lights in all three rooms, the hallway – flickflickflickered, then buzzed brilliant, at double or triple-wattage, then faded, slowly, down to a single orange glow in the recessed lighting of the living room.

Arthur looked uneasily at Gaius, who pushed himself up, but Arthur was the first up the stairs. He hesitated at the door of Merlin's room, then knocked. "Merlin," he said. The hall light flared briefly.

"Arthur?" Merlin voice sounded slightly muffled, yet it was exactly the same light cheerful tone his servant had habitually used, fifteen hundred years ago. "Was there something you needed?"

Arthur pushed the door open. Merlin lay on his side on the bed, curled in the fetal position, arms wrapped around his head. A carousel of loose objects floated mid-air, bobbing and circling the room. The desk lamp and the alarm clock-radio tugged gently at their cords like rowboats tied in a current.

Arthur ducked a pair of boxer shorts and a sock, brushed away two pencils that bumped his shirt like enormous blind dragonflies to come to the middle of the domestic maelstrom. He seated himself on the side of the bed next to Merlin's knees. The lighter with the white dragon on it danced past. "I thought _you_ might need something," he said to Merlin.

The flying objects stilled, hovering. "Me?" Merlin said, still unmoving. "What?"  
Oh – time. Company. A nap, a sandwich…_Understanding_. "A friend?" Arthur tried.

Merlin's arms dropped and he twisted so his shoulders were flat on the bed. His eyes were a dull, exhausted blue centered in purple-brown hollows. The rest of his skin was stark white, except for a faint green shadow on the side of his face, and a darker green-brown along his jaw.

"A _friend_?" His whisper was harsh. Arthur reached to put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin clung to his forearm as if to anchor their souls together through that contact. "I'm a _sorcerer_." The loose detritus of Merlin's bedroom rushed once around the room, then hovered once again in place.

Arthur remembered keenly the last time Merlin had said that – they'd been touching each other in much the same way, only it had been Arthur in the prone position, fighting deep internal pain. "I know," he said.

"I have magic," Merlin repeated, as if he didn't think Arthur understood.

Arthur said, "I'm glad."

Merlin stared at him. Then his body convulsed, and he screwed his eyes shut in pain, grunting at an invisible onslaught, then another – anotheranother – the floating objects slammed backward into the walls, then slid downward to come to rest.

"Gaius!" Arthur raised his voice knowing the old physician was waiting at the door.

Gaius hurried in, bent over Merlin on the other side. "I don't know, sire – a seizure?" he said.

Tears leaked down Merlin's temples, and sweat stood out on his face. He moaned and clenched his teeth, squinted at Arthur and gasped, "Stay with me? Stay with me…" He curled onto his side again, squeezing Arthur's hand with both of his, pressing his forehead against the side of Arthur's wrist.

"I will," Arthur said. Remembering how he'd had to leave Merlin, before, there so near to the lake – and yet so far. "I will stay," he promised.

**There you have the memory recovery scene – I hope no one was disappointed… Okay, please no rolling eyes at the 'laying on of hands'. ;) If you want to reread (or just take my word for it) you'll see that when Arthur touched Merlin the first day they met, Merlin was angry with him, shrugged him off. And after that, Arthur only touched him when he was unconscious or nearly so – and this was when Merlin was the closest to remembering… **

**To Scrubbedceiling: I had a small moment in ch.3 (The Round Table) when Arthur decides he's not that interested in drones because of his experience leading men into hand-to-hand combat. I think what solves it, is that the knights would not be **_**using**_** the drones, just defending against them… have I given too much away? :P**


	12. The Sum of All Dreams

**A/N: Okay, so 14 chapters for sure. I probably won't get it all out by this weekend, when I have company coming for Christmas, but it should be done before New Year's. And we'll all be busy with the holidays, right?**

**Sorry again for a 'filler' chapter… **

Chapter 12: The Sum of all Dreams

_Tears leaked down Merlin's temples, and sweat stood out on his face. He moaned and clenched his teeth, squinted at Arthur and gasped, "Stay with me? Stay with me…" He curled onto his side again, squeezing Arthur's hand with both of his, pressing his forehead against the side of Arthur's wrist._

"_I will," Arthur said. Remembering how he'd had to leave Merlin, before, there so near to the lake – and yet so far. "I will stay," he promised._

Merlin shuddered and panted, each breath harsh in the still, shadowy room. Gaius tried once to open the blinds, but when the young sorcerer gasped and whimpered at the light, the old man had left the room dim.

Leon came to the door, letting Arthur know that Thomas Drake had called to inquire about his son's whereabouts, and that he, Leon, was going to go back to the brick house to resume his duties for the elder Drake, but would check back with them on the morrow.

"Talk to him," Arthur said, speaking of his father. "I trust you, Leon, to know what to tell him and what to leave out. See if you can warn him, get him to believe the truth."

"Yes, sire," Leon nodded.

Gwaine came to see if doughnuts – or rum – might help. Percival, at Arthur's request, brought a stack of cds and inserted one at random into the player now on the floor beside the desk. Gwen crept in to recline beside and behind Merlin on the bed, brush his damp hair away from his face and exchange worried looks with Arthur. Merlin did seem to relax at her presence, but when the jolts of pain started again, and increased so rapidly that he was shaking, he took one hand from Arthur's grasp to push her weakly away from him, as if to protect her from whatever assailed him. Then clung to the king again as if his touch was a lifeline in a hurricane.

"What's the matter with him?" Arthur heard Gwen ask Gaius, in the hall outside the door.

"Medically speaking, I cannot explain his condition," the old physician replied in a low voice. "But my guess is, he's remembering."

"Everything at once?" Gwen's sweet voice was tense with horror. "But it took months for us to remember a lifetime…"

Gaius said only, "Yes…" He entered the room with a tray, water and food for king and sorcerer. Merlin managed to swallow a couple of Percocet with some water, but only Arthur ate, one-handed.

"Can't you do something for him?" Arthur said to Gaius in a low tone.

"I'm afraid all we can do is wait," the old physician said.

The cd player spilled soft music into the room and Arthur didn't really listen, except to one song. "Good Man". _I felt like a great man when I was with you/ Those days I felt honor were far they were few they were mine… Goodnight my friends… goodbye the dreams that all danced their way into my life… _

Merlin stilled for a moment, opened his eyes to look at Arthur, as if making sure he was still there. Then, trembling uncontrollably and damp with sweat, Merlin whispered, "Arthur, I need to tell you – so many things. I have to explain… I'm sorry…"

"No," Arthur said firmly, shocking the younger man into silence. "No, you don't. You don't owe me explanations or apologies."

"You must want to ask me –" Merlin persisted.

"What's done is done," Arthur said. "We'll have plenty of time to talk about anything you like – but later. You just rest now."

Merlin let out a chuckle, which dissolved into a coughing fit. "Who are you," he wheezed, "and what have you done with my Arthur?"

_A horse of forever we rode in our youth/ I walked into heaven through hell in these boots…_

Arthur said, "You'd rather me call you a girl and threaten you with chores?"

"You haven't got armor –" Merlin's body jerked, and his face twisted in pain. "Or stables."

Arthur couldn't help smiling through his concern. "I've got a Mustang you can detail," he said.

_I feel a great love while I'm here in your arms/ You were all brothers and fathers and sons, you were mine…_

Merlin's laugh was cut off by an agonized hiss. "You – changed," he managed.

"We all did," Arthur said simply.

_I can finally see the light… I can finally see you in the night…_

"Tell – me?" Merlin said.

So Arthur began to talk, about his childhood, his favorite legends and stories, how he made armor from cardboard boxes and packing tape in his playroom. He told of a vivid dream, the night of his twelfth birthday, wherein the mightiest sorcerer in the world was not a formidable old man, nor yet a cartoon with a pointy hat, but a gawky young country boy who spoke his mind and gave his respect only where it was earned.

He spoke of his father's reaction to young Arthur's recounted dreams, the distant amusement changing to cold impatience changing to stony censure. Then, though he had no one to tell the fantastic scenes he dreamed, he looked forward to bedtime as no other middle-schooler did, as though he watched a privately-played movie reel, watched the life of the prince he believed he was named after unfold, knowing from the beginning the magic of Merlin – famous, legendary, _beloved_ Merlin – and by turns impatient, incredulous, and hopeful for his older self. Seeing so much more than he ever had before.

At fifteen, when he was introduced to his father's newest employee, a chauffer hired also for his defensive skills, he recognized Leon Tweed, and the last piece fell into place.

He remembered being a king, administering a kingdom, bearing responsibility for soldiers sent to war and peasants in the path of danger, he remembered betrayal and loyalty, lies and nobility – all before he graduated high school. He remembered waiting with impatience and no small amount of trepidation for his destiny to begin anew.

When Arthur finished, his throat sore from so many words, Merlin was sound asleep, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, his body completely relaxed, his hold on Arthur's hand firm.

The former king slouched down in his chair against the bedroom wall, angling his legs to share the support of the bed, and fell asleep himself.

…..* …..* …..* …..* …..* …..

Arthur woke to the orange-red rays of dawn slanting into the room through blinds that clicked together as they were raised.

"Boys," Gaius said in his no-nonsense voice. "It's Sunday morning. You've slept twelve hours straight."

Merlin, sprawled facedown with the pillow scrunched between his shoulder and the wall, and the Scottie between his feet with its head over Merlin's ankle, groaned and shifted. "Five more minutes, Gaius," he slurred.

Arthur could have sworn that his knees creaked when he tried to put his feet on the floor. His whole body was horribly, uncomfortably stiff, and he double-checked to see if his left arm was as swollen as it felt.

"How do you feel?" Gaius said, clasping his hands in front of him and looking down on the two of them.

"Awful," Merlin mumbled into the mattress.

"_You_ feel awful," Arthur groused. "Next time you get the chair and I get the bed."

Merlin moved, turning his head to look at Arthur without raising it from the bed. His uniquely wide grin was half-hidden by the blue striped comforter. "Arthur," he said. "You promised."

"Promised what?" Arthur sat forward the in the desk chair, rubbing the kinks from his neck.

"Not to hold hands and sing –"

"You don't hear me singing, do you?" Arthur rubbed his eyes, letting his tone continue surly. "A hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on – hell, Merlin, whatever _you_ need, just let me know."

Merlin laughed softly. "How about a friend?" he said. "Who'd have thought? The prince and the pauper…"

"_Mer_lin," Arthur said. He couldn't stop the feeling of pleased relief, even if he'd wanted to. "Don't be such a _girl_."

"But since you're offering," Merlin continued as if Arthur had not interrupted, "breakfast in bed would be nice." He rolled to his back and put one hand under his head, a picture of easy laziness.

Arthur snatched the pillow out from under his head and began to bludgeon Merlin with it. He couldn't _not_ hit him, but at least it was a soft weapon. Gaius snorted, and left them to it.

"Ow, ow, ow! A pillow-fight, really? Now who's being a girl?"

"Well, I did think of throwing boots at you," Arthur responded. "Yours are around here somewhere…" But he wasn't completely sure he wouldn't end up hurting Merlin – those seizures yesterday had been sobering. "Come on," Arthur said. "You didn't eat yesterday – you've got to be starving. I know I am."

"Well, you know, Arthur, you could stand to skip a few –"

"_Merlin_!"

There was a smile in Merlin's voice, too. "Shutting up, sire."

Leon was at the table when Arthur came down, an empty plate pushed back, his fingers wrapped around his coffee mug, a thoughtful look on his face. Gwaine, next to him, was shoveling eggs and sausage into his mouth from a half-empty plate. Gaius was readying the coffee maker for a second pot, and Gwen was in the kitchen next to him, dressed in a red sleeveless shirt and jeans with a fleur-de-lis embroidered on the back pockets, her back to them as she stood over the stove.

Arthur saluted his knights silently, and came up behind Gwen to wrap his arms around her. "Oh!" she said, jumping. "You startled me." She twisted just enough to meet his lips with her own.

"Morning, princess," Gwaine said around his mouthful, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"How's Merlin?" Gwen said to Arthur.

"Better."

Gaius said from his place in the corner, "I think you should all keep something in mind – namely, the fact that your past and present identities merged during your early adolescence years ago. You're comfortable with who you are now, the changes that a second life in a new century have made, and you've all had two weeks to get to know one another again as well. Merlin may feel awkward, unsure – he will need time to adjust."

"Time," Arthur said, sighing, "is something we don't have right now." Gwen scooped eggs onto a plate for him, and he turned from the kitchen. "Leon – what happened when you talked to my father?"

"I told him I'd heard rumors from some of Camelot's security personnel," Leon said. "Rumors questioning the reliability of the guards at the hangar, rumors that the drones had been tampered with, had been stolen."

"What did he say?" Arthur asked, setting down his plate and seating himself to Leon's right.

"He didn't listen to me. Wouldn't believe that anyone in Camelot would betray him – us – like that."

Arthur snorted. Yes, that was Thomas Drake – Uther Pendragon. Determined to trust the wrong people, blind to the loyalty of those who didn't give him every ounce of respect he considered himself deserving of. A tiny voice in the back of his mind wondered how much Arthur was like his father – how much he had been, fifteen hundred years earlier, how much he still was... He ignored it. "Any chance I can get him to hold off on that test?" he muttered rhetorically.

"Percival went home for the day," Leon mentioned. "He said Kathryn's been very understanding, but…"

Gwen turned from the stove, and Arthur caught her eye. "Yeah, I get it," he said. "Did he tell her about going to the hangar the other night?"

Gwaine grinned, scraping his fork on his plate. "Probably not all of it."

"What are we going to do?" Leon asked Arthur. "What _can_ we do?"

"That depends on –" Arthur was interrupted by the sound of footsteps and dog tags on the stairs, and Merlin appeared, in jeans and a gray t-shirt with a black design of intricately-feathered wings covering the left side.

He faced the chorus of greetings with a brief hesitation and a self-conscious smile. "Morning, everyone," he said. "Sorry about – before. It's – great to see you all again." He came to the table, his lopsided grin widening. "Actually, it's great that I'm not crazy, after all."

Leon slapped Merlin's good shoulder, while Gwaine shrugged and gave his devil-may-care grin. "Well, you know," he said. "I'm always up for a good intervention."

The whole scene reminded Arthur of nothing so much as Merlin's return after the attack of the dorocha. Well, almost. Maybe it reminded Merlin of that as well, because the sorcerer's next questioned, "Where's Lancelot? Elyan?"

"Elyan's in the navy in San Diego," Leon said, after a moment of silence. "Lancelot – was killed in Afghanistan last year."

Merlin winced. Then nodded, absorbing the tragedy as he always did, tucking it away inside. Arthur vowed to himself that he would try to do a better job, this time around, of protecting Merlin from himself and his tendency to hide the pain he felt.

Gwen came out of the kitchen, eggy spatula in hand, to hug him again, and this time he held her close with no reservations. "_You_ look happy," he teased her lightly.

"So do you," she returned, smiling up in his face.

Gaius was just behind her, and Merlin unabashedly welcomed his grandfather's embrace. "Ah, my boy," the old man said. "I am so sorry –"

"Don't be," Merlin interrupted. "You're my _family_ Gaius, then and now." He hesitated, then added, "You _all_ are," before escaping into the kitchen and clattering both coffeepot and mug in his attempt to cover embarrassment.

Arthur was aware of more than one pair of eyes on him, gauging his reaction, expecting a response… "Merlin," he said deliberately.

"Yes, Arthur?" He'd missed that tone of pure cheerfulness, the willing anything-in-the-world-for-you-sire attitude.

"Get me a cup, while you're at it."

Gaius' eyebrow lifted, Gwen gave Arthur a stern glance. Gwaine and Leon looked like they didn't know what to think, whether to laugh or to criticize Arthur for callousness.

Merlin laughed. "Cream and sugar, sire?" he asked.

Arthur scoffed. "Of course."

"Yes, my lord!" Merlin at his cheekiest. "Coming right up, my lord!"

"Now, as it stands, we –" Arthur looked up, thunderstruck for a moment, then said calmly to Gwaine, "Watch your head," as the blue sugar-and-creamer set floated through the air to the table. "Thank you, Merlin," Arthur said evenly, as the others snickered.

"We've got six drones armed with heavy explosives," he continued, "scheduled to fly tomorrow. What should we do? What can we do?"

"Is there any way we can find out where they are?" Leon said, leaning forward onto the table.

Arthur lifted his head. Merlin had remained in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to wolf down a plateful of eggs and sausage. "Merlin," Arthur said.

"What?"

"Round Table meeting – get your butt over here." Merlin looked at the two knights with surprise tinged by wariness. "And bring your laptop," Arthur added.

….. *…. *…. *….. *….. *…..

Not quite an hour later, Merlin slapped the table in frustration, shoving his chair back. "This is impossible, Arthur," he announced. "This guy – whoever he is – he's a _lot_ better hacker than I am. The GPS signal from those five UAVs – the code is just about identical for them, so I can _almost_ – it's like, like trying to pick up a handful of sand – it keeps _slipping_, dammit. All I can tell is that they're not _here_, and not all _together_."

"By not _here_, you mean –" Leon wondered.

"Not in the continental U.S.," Merlin answered, running the fingers of both hands through his hair.

Arthur turned one of the kitchen chairs around backwards and straddled it. "Let's leave the missing five for the moment. It could very well be that there is nothing we can do about them. What about the one that's still here? It's been fitted with HMX – seems likely that this unknown person –" no one had yet said the word _terrorist_, but they were probably all thinking it – "has plans to use it locally. What can we do about this one?"

Gwaine looked up from where he was leaning on the bookshelf, paging through one of Gaius' encyclopedias. "Merlin, when you – made that hangar go bang – did you – could you – knock out that last drone, somehow?"

Merlin shook his head slowly, biting his lip. "I – didn't mean to do that," he said. "I – wasn't thinking about the drones, only – only that the guard could _see_ us, in that light, and the fence was _between_ us and the woods…" He gave Arthur a pleading look, as if to apologize for not disabling the drone.

"Would stealing the thing prevent it from being used?" Gwen ventured from the couch, where she and Gaius were watching HGTV, the white Scottie curled between them.

"Only if we manage to deactivate the signal before it's launched," Merlin sighed. "I mean, the thing is _meant_ to take off and fly and land on its own." He shoved himself up from the table and began to pace, arms hugging to his chest.

"What about the guard?" Leon said. "Fred Acheson? If we questioned him –"

"Whoever is in charge, they already know that we – that _someone_ else knows," Arthur said. "Acheson would have reported our raid to whoever he is working for. If we are to have any chance of success at stopping this attack, we have to catch them by surprise. And it's entirely possible that Acheson won't know where they were taken after they left the hangar, anyway. We'd only spook this hacker further."

"Perhaps you should alert the authorities," Gaius said. "NSA? FBI? CIA?"

Arthur looked at Leon, who shook his head, corroborating Arthur's own feeling. "The evidence is circumstantial," Leon said. "And the CEO denies it. If they did believe in spite of that, I doubt twenty-four hours is enough time for them to prevent anything."

"So it's up to us," Gwaine said.

Merlin stalked to the slider, yanked it open, slammed it shut behind him so hard the glass shuddered. He squatted down with his back to the house, and lit a cigarette. Arthur could see that his hands were shaking. No one said anything. Arthur rested his head on his hand, elbow on the table, and closed his eyes, willing his thoughts to drift, to maybe come at the problem from a different way. They couldn't allow the attack to take place. They couldn't attack this enemy directly, not knowing where he, or his stolen weapons, were located.

He pictured the drone in his mind, sleek and white, zipping through the air… that connected to his memory of watching over a second-story railing as two toy helicopters danced and teased in aerial acrobatics, Merlin's hand directing their flight without actually touching his computer. He'd dreamed – _Merlin snapping his fingers and the computer obeying_… the projector in the boardroom… Gaius' printer, even when it was unplugged… radios, tvs, the toaster oven.

Arthur pushed himself up from the chair, and slipped through the slider to the backyard, crouching down beside Merlin. The sorcerer glanced up, lighting a second cigarette. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I know, these things'll kill ya."

Arthur said, completely off-topic, "Why do you hold it like that?" He mimicked Merlin's odd grasp of the cigarette, cupping it underneath his curled fingers rather than sticking it between first and middle finger.

Merlin snorted. "Seattle," he said, and at Arthur's questioning frown, he added, "I grew up in Seattle. It's always raining there. You learn to keep it lit, like this."

Arthur chuckled, nodding in understanding, then began, "When you said, that this person was a better hacker than you –" Merlin gave him a half-hearted glare-_cum_-grimace – "were you – following the rules?"

Merlin's look faded to confusion. "What do you mean?" he said.

"I'm not sure," Arthur answered. "I'm trying to figure this out, myself. Your magic – you can change a radio station, a tv channel, just by thinking it. Can't you."

Merlin exhaled, rubbing his eyes. "I dunno – guess so," he muttered.

"Can you –" Arthur hesitated, remembering the reactions of Merlin's foster families to the electronic anomalies. "Can you combine your magic to your knowledge of computer programming?" he said. "Would that help you get around this hacker's – defenses?"

Merlin stared at him, forgotten cigarette trailing smoke. "I can sure as hell try," he said, with a renewed determination that seemed to give Arthur himself an extra boost of energy. "I thought – I thought I was letting you down… if I couldn't -"

"Never, Merlin," Arthur said firmly, standing and giving Merlin a hand up. "Your best is good enough for me."

Merlin gave him an incredulous look. "You never would have said that, before," he said. "You said I was lazy… the worst servant you've ever had…"

"That's because you never did your best at being a servant, did you?" Arthur said. "Daily chores were never your first priority, were they?" Merlin opened his mouth, probably to protest his efforts, then stopped to consider. "Things like shiny armor and scrubbed floors come in a far second when you've got things like destiny and protection and the secrecy of magic on your mind, hm?"

Merlin looked astonished, and Arthur laughed, opening the door and ushering his friend back inside.

"Two things I need," he said, speaking to Merlin specifically, but the others in the room gave their attention as well. "I need to know the location of all six drones – without that hacker knowing that you're doing it – and I need to know if you can override that piggybacked signal."

Merlin straddled his chair, his fingers already racing over the keyboard of his laptop. "Without him knowing I'm doing it," he murmured, his eyes glowing gold.

Arthur said, smiling, "Evidently you've had a lot of practice at _that_." Merlin glanced up uncertainly, then gave his own impishly unrepentant grin, and shrugged. "We'll try to keep them from launching," Arthur said to the rest. "If we can't manage that, hopefully we can interrupt the signal and get control back after they're in the air." He focused for a minute on his queen. "Get Elyan on the phone, will you please?" Then he turned to Leon and Gwaine.

"Here's what I need you to do," he said.


	13. As the Phoenix Flies

**Okay, so I **_**did**_** label this as **_**Adventure**_**/Drama…**

Chapter 12: As the Phoenix Flies

Monday morning Arthur was up early. He showered, shaved, and dressed carefully in navy trousers, white collared shirt, red tie. He used the solid-gold rising-sun tie pin his father had given him as a high school graduation present, carried his briefcase instead of the messenger bag, and managed to be waiting for his father at the door. Thomas Drake paused in the entryway of the brick house, surprised and assessing his son.

"You were out again this weekend," the elder Drake said as they simultaneously entered the Bentley from either side, Leon waiting silent but alert in the driver's seat.

Arthur chose to ignore the implied disapproval, as well as the unstated question. "Big day, today," he commented. "Drone-testing. Looks like you'll have beautiful weather for it." He imagined his father in his expensive suit and shoes, the military men in their class-blue formal uniforms, under a pavilion in a field somewhere, scanning the cloudless blue skies.

"Yes." Thomas Drake eyed his son. "You're welcome to accompany us, of course, though I hadn't counted on your presence."

"No, thank you, Father," Arthur said, pretending disinterest. "You'll have Leon, and the colonels. Lieutenant Spiers informed me that he intended to accompany the drone to the test site, also. I believe my place is in Camelot, this morning."

"If you're sure," Thomas Drake said, completely unconcerned.

Arthur checked his watch. "What time do you expect the test flight to take place?" he asked, exactly as if he didn't know the answer already, courtesy of Merlin's cyber-prowling.

"Eleven thirty, or shortly thereafter," Thomas Drake answered.

Three hours. Arthur tapped his ring on his knee. Leon met his eyes in the rearview mirror, and nodded fractionally – it was as good as a verbal promise, that the knight would fulfill his duty as bodyguard of the CEO of Camelot, this morning.

When they arrived, Thomas Drake ascended to his office as usual for Monday morning. Arthur nodded reassuringly to a nervous Guinevere behind the receptionists' desk, and headed reluctantly to his desk in the A.S.S. department. Hans spoke to him, giving him instructions, but he didn't remember actually hearing a word of it. He turned instead to the window, craning his neck to watch the front door for his father's exit.

There was more to today's activities than just preventing damage, destruction, loss of life – by hijacking Camelot's specialized drones, by using the prototype-testing schedule, whoever planned this had also planned on _implicating_ Camelot Technologies. Even though Thomas Drake hadn't paid any attention to the threat, Arthur could not allow his father to take any part of the blame if things went wrong.

An hour later, Hans turned from answering a phone call at his desk. "The IT department has requested your presence," he informed Arthur.

"Thank you," Arthur said, politely enough. "I have a special assignment which will occupy my attention all morning, if not all day." Without giving the director of the department a chance to object or complain, Arthur headed for the back stairs, and made his swift way to the IT department.

Carol T's office was changed, a network of computer screens and keyboards and other equipment draped across Merlin's small corner desk. The sorcerer had clearly been busy, but Merlin was pacing again, looking more apprehensive than Arthur felt. "Oh good you're here," he exclaimed. "I mean I don't know where else you'd be unless your dad made you go with him or something went very wrong not that I think something is going to go wrong though there's a lot that could –"

"Merlin," Arthur said, with understanding and sarcasm, "_shut up_."

He seated himself in Carol's desk chair, and turned to face Merlin. "Leon will stay with my father, make sure he and the officers are fine," he reminded the sorcerer.

Merlin's gaze was on the floor. "You shouldn't take that for granted," he said softly.

"What?"

"Having your father around."

Arthur remembered why that would be a big deal to Merlin. "What was he like, your father?" he asked.

Merlin smiled, but it was a sad smile. "I don't know if he was the same," he said. "I don't remember him clearly enough, from my childhood this century. He was brave, though," he added, almost to himself. "A soldier. A – " he glanced at Arthur, who simply waited, listening. "A _dragonlord_." He collapsed into his own seat as if he'd just been denied the possibility of parole, one hand reaching up to cover his right shoulder, where the tattoo was hidden beneath his shirt.

Arthur closed his eyes momentarily, sifting through his own memories. How an old man in a red robe and long red beard – _Merlin_, he reminded himself – had commanded the white dragon over the Camlann battlefield. He hadn't had time to consider that aspect of Merlin's revelation before.

"That's an inherited thing, isn't it?" he said aloud, though he didn't expect Merlin to answer. No wonder Merlin had volunteered to ride out to face the great dragon – _Kilgarrah_. Probably he was the only one who could handle it, after all – and no wonder then, that he knew its name. Arthur's own memory of that night was hazy, ending mid-battle. He'd been only too happy to awaken alive, with the beast gone, no matter how it had happened. And earlier, he and Merlin had ridden to find the last dragonlord – the name came up from deeper in his memory –

"_Damn_, Merlin," he sighed. "Balinor was your _father_." He opened his eyes and looked at his friend, at the fear Merlin still carried, the fear that Arthur would be angry with him… He smiled, a little wearily. "Hey, I'll trade you," he offered.

Merlin's lips twitched. "No, I don't think so," he said, and if he didn't sound happy, he sounded _proud_.

They were interrupted by Arthur's cell phone. "Gwaine and Percival are en route to the hangar," Arthur informed Merlin, bringing them back to the present. "Camelot security and the military project liaison, perfectly honest and above-board."

"And Elyan?" Merlin said, sliding to the edge of his chair.

Arthur checked the list of texts from the young naval officer. "He says the navy is helping to cover the drones' locations in Moscow, Beijing, Paris, and London."

Merlin shook his head. "I still find it hard to believe," he said. "That they could organize something like this so quickly."

"Well, Elyan's specialty is counter-terrorism surveillance," Arthur said. "A tip of this magnitude, even without much evidence, the navy can't exactly ignore it, can they? And these nations can't exactly ignore a tip that the U.S. Navy wants to check out, either."

Merlin twitched, swinging his desk chair back and forth like an impatient child. "How can you be so _calm_?" he demanded. "All of this happening, and we're just sitting here?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I trust my knights," he said. "And so do you. Any of these other cities – even London – we could hardly have gotten there in time, even if they would have included us. No, our place is Camelot, this morning." He repeated what he'd told his father earlier.

The phone pinged. Another message from Elyan. The fifth team was in place in Tokyo. "All five missing drones covered," Arthur said. "Now we wait. Where's Carol, by the way?"

"She's taking care of a problem in Accounting," Merlin said absently. "They have a benign virus in one of their central programs, but it'll take her all morning to stop it replicating."

Arthur snorted, and the room returned to silence. Relative silence. Outside the IT office, phones rang and employees typed, gossiped, consulted, drank coffee, used printers and copiers. The janitor with his cart emptied waste baskets from each desk.

"I miss Lancelot," Merlin said abruptly, then glanced quickly at Arthur, as if afraid he'd said the wrong thing.

"I do, too," Arthur said honestly.

"Do you know," Merlin ventured, "when it happened?" His eyes were far away as he stared out the window. Perhaps remembering Lancelot's death – sacrifice – for the first kingdom of Camelot. Only Merlin had witnessed that. Arthur would not allow himself to think of what had come after.

"Percival said," Arthur tried to remember exactly, "a year ago on May eleven."

"A year ago on May eleven," Merlin repeated, his gaze sharpening. He looked at Arthur, the blood draining from his face.

"What is it?" Arthur said.

"That's – that's," Merlin stuttered, "that's when I had the – the fire, the burn – my leg." Growing dread on his face. "I woke up, and my _bed_ was on fire," he said. "They told the cops I'd been smoking in my room – but I never smoke indoors…" He stared at Arthur, who stared back. "What if I _knew_? Arthur – _damn_… what if I could have – _done_ something about it?"

Arthur said carefully, "If your accident and that IED were at all connected, I'm sure you would not have had the time to warn anyone, even if you had known who to tell." He paused, and added more forcefully, "You could not have saved him, any more than you could have the last time."

Merlin shook his head slowly, horror darkening the blue of his eyes. "I could have, before," he said. "I got distracted…"

"Merlin," Arthur said sharply. "What's done is done. Lancelot knew what he was doing, then and now, and what I know is this – he would not have wanted you to blame yourself."

Merlin nodded, but the misery didn't entirely leave his expression. Arthur thought of the odds of such a coincidence – an unexplained fire in Merlin's bedroom the day Lancelot was killed. He thought further back to the thirty-seven phone calls when Merlin's mother and brother were attacked… and seven-year-old Merlin, unconscious for two days.

"Merlin," he said slowly, not wanting to alarm his young friend, "where were you on 9-11?"

Merlin swung his chair around to face the blank computer screens waiting for him. "Sick in the hospital," he answered. "You?"

"School day," Arthur answered. "Fourth grade – middle of reading class. What did you have? You must have been pretty sick."

Merlin shrugged. "I don't remember. I think someone told me they thought it was meningitis. I was in a coma all week, they didn't think I would live."

Arthur took a deep breath. Okay. Even if he was right and Merlin might have instinctively felt the attack, this wasn't the time or the place to get into it. He made a mental note to discuss the issue with Gaius.

"Why don't you do a last check on the locations of the drones," he suggested. "And maybe give this hacker a sense that we're still – looking. In the dark, but looking. If it was me, I'd be suspicious if my enemy backed off suddenly and completely." Merlin glanced at him, initiating start-up sequences to bring his network to life, and Arthur saw the question. "I want him to _think_ he knows what we're doing, _think_ he's far more clever and in control."

Merlin smiled, a mix of two personalities showing in an open approval of Arthur's plan as well as a darker glee for the havoc he'd been instructed to wreak. "You want him to underestimate us," he said.

Arthur seated himself at Carol's desk. "Exactly," he said, opening his email account and preparing to use the Instant Messenger feature. Texting wasn't fast enough for this morning's work, but they needed more discretion than the radio system they'd used when entering the hangar.

**Report**, he ordered each one of his knights.

**All teams waiting for orders to move**, from Elyan. **Technicians included, capable of recapturing signal in case of early launch. Twenty-nine minutes and counting til greenlight.**

**Arrived at test site safely**, from Leon. **Waiting for remaining drone to arrive. TD, 2 Cols, and UAV operator.**

Arthur messaged Leon back, **Suspect operator involvement?**

**Not at this point.** Behind him, Arthur heard Merlin's keyboards clacking away as he typed at his usual top speed.

A message from Gwaine arrived, the longest of all three. **In truck with Percival, Acheson, extra guard – new man. We were not allowed inside the hangar, drone removed covered with concealing sheet, we were not allowed to check it. Acheson and extra resentful of our presence, but unsuspicious. Shall we take the drone?**

Arthur responded, **Hold. All six simultaneous. Twenty-one minutes**.

"Merlin?" he said, turning his chair around to check on the young sorcerer.

"The five are still in the same locations," Merlin reported, his voice sounding tense. "I let this guy notice me trying to hack his system, being clumsy…" Arthur smiled, though Merlin still had his back to him. "But he reacted by hacking into Camelot's system, and with my network tied up monitoring the drones, I'm having a hard time keeping him out… He's trying to pin me down…" Merlin's fingers flew, key clattering as he worked first one keyboard, then both, then just the second, his head turning in an attempt to follow all his screens at once.

Arthur stood. "What do you mean?" he asked, not wanting to distract Merlin, but unable to shake a sense of foreboding.

"If I let him into Camelot, he can do a lot of damage in a split second," Merlin said. "If I let him find me, he finds that we know where all the drones are. If I stop him, he knows I'm not some idiot beginner…"

Suddenly he stiffened, his hands freezing midair. Arthur was at his side in an instant, though he understood next to nothing of Merlin's work. "What?" he demanded. "What is it?"

"His screen name," Merlin whispered, his face ashen. "_Mordred_."

That name struck Arthur's heart, also. _Surely not_… Then common sense overruled irrational fear. "It's not _him_, Merlin," Arthur said.

"How can you know?"

"Think for a minute. We retained our ages relative to one another," Arthur said. "Gaius is around seventy, my father is upper fifties, Leon is almost ten years older than Gwen the knights and I, and you're a few years younger. When you were eighteen, how old would Mordred have been?"

Merlin breathed a little easier, some color coming back in his face. "He'd have been… eleven or twelve."

"It's not the same Mordred," Arthur said confidently.

"Then why would someone –"

"It makes sense, I guess," Arthur said. "If you're planning to attack Camelot…"

"You'd take the name Mordred," Merlin finished, beginning to work the keyboard once again. "Yes, you're right, I shouldn't have –"

He froze once again, his head turned sideways to stare at one screen. "No," he breathed.

"Merlin, _what_?"

"_The London drone has been launched."_

"Give Elyan the order - greenlight, greenlight," Arthur snapped instantly.

The sorcerer flung one hand out behind him, and the keyboard at Carol's desk began to rattle and type. Arthur leaped for the seat, studying the screen. Merlin had sent a near-instantaneous message – **GO!GO!GO! London team exposed – drone launched. Take all other sites immediately!**

"No, you don't, you sonuva –" Merlin muttered behind him. "You may think you're a slippery little – oh! you _jackass_!"

Arthur took control of the computer once Elyan had messaged a confirmation of the order. It made him feel cold and sweaty at once to think that in five major capitals in Europe and Asia, elite teams were deploying to secure heavy explosives from a terrorist threat. Somewhere outside the IT office a woman laughed.

Arthur messaged Gwaine – **Take it now!**

There was no response. Arthur imagined Gwaine shutting his laptop, signaling Percival, both men bursting into action. Gwaine would subdue and secure the guards, while Percival - next to Merlin the most knowledgeable about the drone's technology - would be responsible for grounding the weapon.

"Oh, no you don't!" Merlin gritted between clenched teeth, fingers racing across the keys. Arthur left Carol's computer to stand silently beside his friend, whose face was twisted into a nearly unrecognizable snarl of determination. Blue eyes flashed golden – and again – and again. "There – see how you like your little toy at the bottom of the North Atlantic," Merlin said, sitting back with a grim laugh. He glanced up at Arthur, and wiped a trickle of sweat from the side of his face, wincing at the pull of injured muscles. Arthur too felt the tension mainly in his left shoulder blade. "I think we did it, sire," he said, looking a teenager again.

"You remember what you said when we were waiting to face Cenred's army?" Arthur asked. " _'Look what we've got – you and me_.' "

Merlin scoffed. "You said, _Merlin, what exactly are you going to do_?"

"Protect me, like you've always done," Arthur finished, feeling an exultant smile coming to his face, as he gave a twist to the conclusion of that brief exchange, fifteen hundred years ago, "And God help _anyone who gets in our way_!" Merlin laughed.

Ping! came from the computer behind them. Ping! It was a pleasant, jolly sound, an alert to good news received, confirmation of victory. Arthur didn't hurry, but collapsed in the chair and keyed to open the message from Elyan**. Moscow secure. Paris secure. Beijing and Tokyo secure. London-based UAV launched, but inexplicably crashed into the North Atlantic.**

Arthur laughed out loud. Inexplicable – that was Merlin, all right. "We did it," he whispered. "We _did_ it."

Ping! Message from Leon. He clicked it open**. DRONE LAUNCHED! Orders received two minutes after truck arrived at site during unloading. Two guards and UAV operator detained, Percival mid-deactivation when drone launched remotely. DC DRONE ROGUE!**

Arthur straightened. Behind him, Merlin spat a sudden and surprising curse. "No," the sorcerer said. "No, no, nonono! _Arthur_!"

"Where's it going, where's it going?" Arthur called. Where could it go? – eight missiles – D.C.

"I can get it back," Merlin mumbled. "Just give me one – second… Hell. _Fire_."

The lanky sorcerer burst from his chair and scrambled for the door, ignoring Arthur's startled yelp of "Merlin!" Arthur barreled out of the office in time to see Merlin slide down the banister like a suicidal lunatic, reaching the ground floor in seconds. "You idiot," Arthur muttered to himself, "You left your computer _behind_!" He leaped down the stairs, taking several at each step, but careful not to fall and break his fool ankle.

"Arthur?" Gwen questioned, standing behind the receptionists' desk, eyes wide and frightened.

Arthur slammed through both sets of glass front doors and followed Merlin to the wide front lawn, green, unshaded, and sticky with humidity.

The sorcerer was now motionless, face uplifted, eyes closed. Arthur stopped an arms' length away from Merlin. He didn't speak. He heard nothing but a soft buzzing, like a platoon of bees in a rose garden, or a model airplane in a suburban backyard. Merlin's face turned fractionally to the north – and time slowed.

Merlin's arms came up, his whole body braced like he was an outfielder in the World Series, and the game-winning catch was dropping, the size of a watermelon.

Or the size of half a Mustang.

Arthur blinked, and just that fast, the sleek white UAV hung glittering in the air above them, nearly touching the top of the metal sculpture. There was a moment of absolute silence, broken only by the whirring of the turbo fan propellers and the power source.

_You_ can _catch_, he wanted to say, but the horrible _tension_ in Merlin's body, the grimace of _pain_ twisting his face, stopped the words in Arthur's mouth.

"I can't – hold it long," Merlin gritted between his teeth. Sweat stood out on his pale face. His fingers were like claws. "You have to – remove those missiles."

_Can't you just set it down_, died also. Merlin was doing what he could – all he could. Arthur dashed back into the lobby. "Gwen – a screwdriver," he demanded. Patty gaped at him, but Gwen unquestioningly yanked open a drawer, rummaged, then yanked open a second, handing Arthur a single yellow-handled tool.

Arthur turned to leave, and froze. Noticing the trajectory of the drone, realizing the target the angry unknown _Mordred_ had sent the last drone toward. Camelot. To the location of the other computer wizard who'd managed to frustrate the attack.

"Gwen," he said. "Pull the fire alarm. Get everyone out of here."

Her chocolate brown eyes widened, but she nodded wordlessly.

He raced back outside – it was unseemly for a prince or a king to hurry when not directly involved in a battle – but for a random intern, not so much… and weren't they directly involved in the battle, now.

His Kenneth Coles slipped on the smooth silver finish of the sculpture and he dropped half a foot downward. Sweat ran in his eyes and he gritted his teeth on the handle of the screwdriver, resuming his climb.

The metal sculpture hadn't been designed with save-the-world climbers in mind. He slipped again and sliced open the heel of his left hand. The silence and heat was eerie and oppressive, every movement felt agonizingly slow. He didn't waste time trying to check on Merlin, verbally or visually.

The drone slid forward about three inches before stopping again. It _quivered_ in midair.

Arthur wound his legs around the curve of sculpture closest to the drone and reached up. His own hands were shaking. The cuff of his left sleeve was already soaking in blood from the cut on his hand.

He found, to his relief, that though each missile had its own snug jacket of support, he could remove the apparatus holding all four to the drone's wing at once.

Unfortunately, the designers and builders had never intended the part to remove from the UAV so easily. Arthur worked grimly in silence, vaguely aware of the shrieks and shouts of Camelot employees exiting the building to such a bizarre sight. He made haste slowly, knowing that to strip any one of the screws was to condemn them all.

Finally the four conjoined missiles came away in his hand – heavier than he thought, and he almost dropped them. He almost fell in _not_ dropping them. He wedged the grouping into a gap in the sculpture.

"Arthur," Merlin warned, desperation in his tone. Arthur risked a quick look over his shoulder as he shifted to the opposite side of the sculpture to retrieve the second set of HMX explosives.

Merlin hadn't moved except to drop his head down between his arms – but he lifted it again, deathly pale. His arms shook. A trickle of blood ran from his nose, over the corner of his mouth, down the side of his jaw, mixing with the sweat.

Arthur worked faster.

He hoped everyone was out of the building. He hoped they were all still running – driving – whatever – as far and as fast as they could. He hoped Guinevere was safe, wished he'd taken one split second to say those three words one more time.

Maybe it was sirens he heard, not his own heartbeat screaming in his ear. The fire department responded to a pulled alarm, didn't it? The drone shuddered above him, crept forward along its flight path. Arthur moved to maintain contact with the screws, switched the tool to his left hand as it was now out of reach of his right, unless he took the time to completely reposition himself aloft the sculpture.

"Almost, almost," he muttered. _Hold on, Merlin_.

His eyes watered in the glare of the summer sun, high overhead, in the shiny new skin of the drone. The screwdriver slipped from the grooves of the last screw, the handle slick in his hand from the blood. He lost his grip on the tool and it spun to the manicured lawn eight feet beneath him.

Merlin moaned. The UAV _leaned_ toward the sorcerer. Arthur surged upwards, fingers twisting at the final screw, the weight of the combined missiles pulling against it – _fumbling_.

"_Arthur_…" He heard – felt – Merlin's breath leave his lungs, and reacted, lunging upwards to grip the four-missile device, trying to physically wrench it from the drone, as time sped up and everything happened at once.

His legs knocked together, fluttering behind him like a pennant in the breeze of sudden and swift flight. One shoe vanished from his foot. He felt the very faintest _grinding_ in his fingertips, before the concrete of the circular drive rushed upward to meet him.

It seemed more important, for one second, to draw breath into his lungs than to pay attention to the immense cacophony of destruction somewhere above and beyond him, when the blast sent him tumbling, scraping knuckles, ribs, elbows, knees, before he came to rest on a very comfortable patch of grass.

Arthur opened his eyes to see four innocuous tubes on the grass just beyond his outstretched hands. Completely still. Intact. His vision blurred, and he made no attempt to correct it.

Vaguely he could hear the sobbing of someone familiar, someone he cared about. Someone he was connected to. He felt hands on his body, pounding, thumping… It didn't matter. He tasted blood, and that didn't matter, either.

A warm liquid sense of peace filled his chest. Like a bath – or a hot tub, with the whirlpool feature bubbling, soothing, massaging his aches away from the inside… it was beautiful… miraculous…

Arthur let go, and drifted away.

**Thank you to those who review! Thank you to LFB72, you always seem to 'get' what I'm doing!**

**My holiday company is coming tomorrow, 24 hours early. And while I'm excited to see my family, I am aware I've left quite a cliffie again. I will honestly do my best to steal a few minutes here and there to get the next (last?) chapter up ASAP. :P**


	14. Hearing the Horn

**I've had this written for days, but getting a chance… and a computer… and some quiet time… to type it out… the week of Christmas… with a houseful of company… sorry. :P**

**On the plus side, it's now 15 chapters… so I'm forgiven?**

Chapter 14: Hearing the Horn

"So it wasn't an explosion? Intubation complete – we have a pulse now, but no voluntary respiration. "

It seemed odd to him - vaguely, slightly - that hearing would be the first sense to return. Or the last to go…

_ "Arthur! Please, let me go – let me stay with him!"_

His other senses were nonexistent, unnecessary. He wasn't surprised, really. Destiny had never been kind. Now that they had done their job, they would be summarily discarded…again. Some might live…

"Just a collision, apparently. An unmanned aerial vehicle. Bomb squad's on their way. You want a big bag on the IV, then?"

_ "Tell me he's okay – is he breathing? Arthur!"_

There was a pain that registered, though. Merlin. Two sides of one coin. Not meant to be apart, but always together, always complementary, always _more_ than they could be, on their own. It felt like his _soul_ was being bisected…

"Yeah, get me an EKG ready, and that O2 monitor. Was it an accident?"

_"Don't separate us, please – I'll go with him!"_

"If it was an accident, how'd they get the explosives off the thing? And everyone out of the building?"

Another sound registered in his subconscious, a sustained, almost-musical note. It reminded him of a hunting horn. An alert, a call to attention… a summons…

_ "No, please, I want to stay!" _Such agony in that voice. _"Don't take him away again!"_

"Harry, you're gonna wanna sedate that one."

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Arthur opened his eyes and saw pure white. _Am I dead, then_, he wondered. The last time he'd died, he'd closed his eyes on the last sight of Merlin's face, the torturous sorrow written so clearly there, hardly bearable. He remembered nothing of what had come after.

Arthur blinked, and realized the white expanse he gazed at was not uniform. There were thin strips of a slightly off-white shade making rectangular patterns of the white. He blinked again, and focused on tiny gray dots pebbling the white. His brain revolved the image, slowly, and he was mildly surprised when recognition came.

_Ceiling tiles. Huh. Heaven has ceiling tiles. Who knew? _

Dimly, he heard voices. Authoritative, informative voices. And a ringing that was not unpleasant, but familiar.

He turned his head, hearing and feeling a faint rasp of cloth under his ear. _Pillowcase_, he thought. _That's nice. Someone knew I was going to be tired_.

There on his right was a man with curly red-gold hair and beard, lounging in a chair, paging through a magazine, the very picture of patience.

_Oh great_, Arthur thought. _The afterlife has a waiting room._

The man's shirtsleeves were rolled up his arms, but didn't quite hide a long green grass stain on one elbow – and his trousers were wrinkled and stained, as if he'd been playing tackle football on the lawn outside the office.

_Wonder how he died_, Arthur thought. _Wonder how Leon died_.

Leon? Was… supposed to be… protecting someone. Not playing football. And wasn't he, Arthur, the quarterback of this screwed-up little football team? Why were they playing without him?

Because he had died. _Oh_. Maybe they'd been playing football on the lawn after his funeral service. The thought was slightly nauseating.

He focused past Leon, on cupboards with tiny white labels, and a stainless steel sink, and a glass canister with enormous Q-tips. What were they planning on doing to him, here? Surely a physical wasn't required to enter the afterlife? His eyes shrank away from that sight, focused on something closer.

A curtain. A blue patterned curtain, hung from hooks that ran along a track in the white-tiled ceiling. And closer, green, a rough-knit green blanket where his body should be. Where was – oh, there was his arm. Lying outstretched beside him, bandage-covered palm up, with a tube taped to the skin of his forearm. One end of the tube seemed to disappear in the bend of his elbow, while the other end – he followed the tube visually – connected to a bag of clear liquid, hanging from a hook – on a metal arm – on a pole.

_IV_, his mind said. _IV_. Well, hell, intravenous fluids or drugs weren't necessary for someone waiting for the afterlife to begin in earnest.

His attention flowed back to Leon, as the former knight shifted his sleeve to scratch gently at the edge of a square white bandage just below his elbow.

Leon. "Hey," Arthur whispered. It was all he could manage. His throat felt scraped raw. A drink might be nice, about now. A _drink_ might be nice, too. He'd have to talk to Gwaine about that.

Leon snapped his head around to stare wide-eyed at Arthur for a moment, before his face creased into a smile. "Welcome back, sire," Leon said, whispering also.

"Where is everyone?" He meant, _how_ is everyone? Leon had been with Percival, Gwaine, his father – had Gwen been hurt when Merlin let go of that drone? No, that wasn't quite right. Merlin wouldn't have simply _let go_. Merlin had lost consciousness, or…

"Your father's down the hall, on the phone," Leon said, still speaking very softly, as if he thought Arthur might have a headache. "Gwaine's at Alexandria PD with the three we arrested. He insisted on being present for the interrogation, after we heard… well. Gaius is with Percival in the ER – they're treating him for first and second-degree burns on his hands, and the side of his face and neck. He was just too close when the drone took off. Gwen is in the waiting room. She wanted to stay until you regained consciousness. Last I checked, she was talking to Elyan."

_Please, let me go – let me stay with him… Don't separate us, please …_ If he wasn't dead, why had his friend been begging to be allowed to stay? Was the sorcerer the one taken, this time?

_Was Merlin dead?_

Arthur swallowed with difficulty. He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to believe it. He could close his eyes, go to sleep – deal with this later, when he was well again. When he was stronger.

_Ye gods_, the thought of Merlin's permanent absence made him feel weak. He would never be well again.

"Sire," Percival greeted him quietly coming into the room far enough to lean back against the open door, a grin dividing his square face in spite of the white gauze taped to the right side, bandaging part of his cheek, jaw, and neck. His hands were bandaged too, though he held his uniform jacket without apparent discomfort.

"You've looked better," Arthur whispered.

"Thank you, sire."

"And Gwaine?"

"Alexandria PD's taking care of him. I think he broke a bone or two in his hand hitting Acheson, and that was _after_ we'd heard the drone was redirected to Camelot. Arthur," the big knight hesitated, then went on, looking ashamed, "I'm _so_ sorry I didn't stop it –"

"No, you're not to blame," Arthur said. How To Rule A Kingdom 101 _- He who is in charge is ultimately to blame for casualties._ "Have Gwaine report –" Arthur stopped, tired, throat sore, head still swimming a little.

"He knows, Arthur," Percival assured him in his deep, calming voice. "I have to go report to _my_ officers. I'll call you tomorrow." He gave a clumsy salute with one bandaged hand, eyes first on Arthur, then Leon, to include them both, before taking his leave.

"Leon," he whispered. The former knight looked at him. He didn't know if he could bear to hear the truth, but not knowing was killing him. "What about Merlin?"

"Dead to the world," Leon pronounced, with a heartlessness breathtaking in the normally compassionate knight.

"Where is he?" He wanted to shout, but could only manage a hoarse whisper.

Leon gave him a quizzical smile. "He's right there, sire," he said in a quiet voice, pointing across Arthur's body.

Arthur turned his head on the pillow so abruptly it made him dizzy for an instant.

Sprawled in a second chair, one leg slung over one armrest, head tipped against the back of the chair, one arm lying along the length of the second armrest, was Merlin. Shoeless and pajama-clad, his face washed clean of sweat and blood – and all color except for the deep purple-brown hollows around his closed eyes – the teenaged sorcerer was fast asleep. The hand that dangled from the end of the armrest was amass of tape and tubes leading to Merlin's own IV needle, but not currently connected to a drip. He was motionless except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest in breathing.

Arthur himself breathed again, lightheaded with relief.

There was a commotion at the door, a female voice raised in irritated query. Gaius, coming into view but pausing at the threshold of the room, said, "No, he's right here. I told you he'd be with Arthur."

Arthur lifted his head. "He's sleeping, Gaius," he hissed. "Can't you leave him alone?"

The old physician's stern countenance softened. He nodded, and turned to speak to the nurse at the door. Leon stood. "I'll let your father know you're awake." He excused himself to pass the nurse and Gaius, who came further into the room.

A band around Arthur's right arm whirred and tightened, squeezing his bicep, then released by degrees, clicking softly. Taking blood pressure. There was a lead off his forefinger, too, passing vital information to the monitor, which blinked and recorded Arthur's life as three irregular green lines.

Gaius reached to hold Arthur's eyelids open with his thumb, turn Arthur's head to gauge the reaction of his pupils to the light. "What is the last thing you remember?" Gaius questioned softly.

Arthur, still whispering also, said, "The drone. The HMX missiles." The hideous strain evident in every line of Merlin's body, the enormous effort the sorcerer had put into holding the craft against its propulsion system so Arthur could disarm it. "I got them off before the drone hit the building, didn't I?"

Gaius nodded, sad and proud at once. "You did," he said. "And just in time, too, I gather. That UAV did a lot of damage to the building, but not nearly as much as it might have done. You, sire, were very lucky to escape with minimal injuries – concussion, contusions, one cracked rib."

"Scrapes and bruises," Arthur said, and Gaius nodded. "What about Merlin?" They both glanced over at the lanky sorcerer, so unnaturally expressionless and still.

"They're treating him for dehydration, stress, and exhaustion." The old physician added to himself in a mutter, "Or, they would be if they could keep him in his own room." Arthur frowned, uncomprehending, and Gaius told him, "I understand they had a time of it, persuading him to let them examine him for injuries. You were in shock, according to the ambulance report – he did CPR until they arrived."

_Please, let me go – let me stay with him… Don't separate us, please_… Merlin had been pleading with the emergency medical personnel, not with some faceless force of destiny. He probably had wanted to ride in the ambulance with Arthur, and not undergo similar attentions in a second vehicle.

"CPR," Arthur said slowly. And magic? Either way, he'd saved Arthur's life – again. How odd it seemed, for an angry ward of the state, in and out of families and trouble, to bother to learn first aid and lifesaving techniques – but it was exactly like his Merlin.

He lifted his head, and met Gwen's brown eyes, eyes that filled with tears as she came to him. Gaius moved back to give them a moment of privacy.

"_Arthur_," she said, her heart in her voice, speaking oh-so-softly so she would not disturb their sleeping friend.

"I look that bad?" he joked.

Gwen combed his hair gently with her fingers, touched her lips to his. "I was so worried, Arthur," she said, her breath tickling his earlobe. "We couldn't see _anything_ – and then the building – concrete and glass smashing everywhere… I couldn't see you… he couldn't find you, at first. Arthur, he was _frantic_, and they – they wouldn't let me go to you, they wouldn't let anybody get any closer. They had you on that stretcher – and we couldn't see if you were moving… And Merlin…"

"Ssh, Guinevere," he said. "We're here, and we're fine."

She leaned against him, tucking her head on his shoulder under his chin, and he felt her relax as he raised his right arm to hold her tight. Her hair smelled of sunlight and roses. Neither of them needed any words, the closeness and contact was enough. He _loved_ this woman, so much. She was just right for him, 1500 years ago, and now. An indescribable comfort, a support like no other, offering unconditional love and always making him feel stronger.

On the chair, Merlin snored lightly and turned his head a few inches to one side, and it struck Arthur how _unfair_ it was, that he should have a team of knights, an insanely loyal sorcerer, a _wife_… how undeserving he was. Merlin seemed so _alone_. Yes, they were all his friends and would protect him no matter what. But who of them would really _understand_ the unique struggles he would experience? Percival, who had lost a best friend in Lancelot twice, had his Kathryn. Gwaine mostly sought comfort of a more liquid sort. Leon was so phlegmatic it was hard to imagine him wrestling with matters of morality or responsibility – he came to Arthur with practical concerns, and if he experienced more emotional doubts or worries, it never showed.

But Merlin, who had always worn his heart on his sleeve… There was a girl, Gaius had said, and she had been killed… he'd never stopped loving her. Arthur wondered if Gaius meant, _still_. Of course, in this day and age, it would take a _very_ special girl to be the one that Merlin needed, the way Arthur needed his Gwen. Someone who could be trusted with the secret of Merlin's magic, someone who might come close to knowing the weight the sorcerer carried, someone who would willingly carry some of that burden alongside Merlin.

Destiny, Gaius had said, had never been kind to Merlin. Arthur wished with all his soul that this time, might be different. Somehow.

Against his chest, he felt Gwen tense, and recognized his father's voice from the hallway. She stepped back, smiling at him, her eyes bright with unshed but happy tears. "I'll come back tomorrow, Arthur," she promised softly, then whisked through the door and was gone.

"Oh, Arthur," Thomas Drake said from the doorway, and crossed to the bedside to squeeze Arthur's shoulder. It _hurt_, probably bruised. Arthur tried to warn his father to lower his voice, out of consideration for his sleeping friend, another patient after all, who needed his rest too, but Thomas ignored Arthur's gesticulations and exclaimed, "They told me you stopped _breathing_."

All at once, Merlin jerked away. His eyes, horror-filled at Thomas Drake's half-heard words, flew right to Arthur's face. As the fact of Arthur's consciousness hit him, he sighed in relief, a near-inaudible sound that seemed to drain strength along with tension from his body, as he slumped back in the chair momentarily.

Arthur felt that relief also, and gave Merlin a cocky smile. They were alive, and they were together. Merlin reached out one hand to cuff Arthur's shin lightly.

"I can't _believe_ what an unholy mess this day has been," Thomas Drake went on. Arthur recognized the signs of his father working himself into a rant. "_Our_ drones – _stolen_? All recovered by the navy but one – which flew off course into the _North Atlantic_. And equipped with _explosives_? to target the capital cities of other nations! I can't _believe_ those guards were working against us, stealing technology, _implicating_ Camelot in this series of terrorist attacks!"

Gaius cleared his throat as if he'd like nothing better than to take his former king to task on the question of trust and loyalty, but Arthur knew the old physician would never interrupt in a disrespectful manner.

"It's a jurisdictional nightmare, Arthur, it really is – the military, NSA…but it seems that my son is the hero of the day." Thomas Drake beamed. "Arthur, I am so proud of you, risking your life to save all our people."

"Father," Arthur had no such compunctions about disrespect. He was not, after all, addressing his king, anymore. "You've forgotten Merlin, here. Without him, we'd have had no idea about any of this until it was too late. Without him, we would never have had a chance at preventing the attack at all."

Thomas Drake held his son's eyes, as if reluctant to acknowledge the presence of the other boy in the room. Arthur _saw_ his father decide to humor him, turning brusquely to Merlin. "Our gratitude extends to all those instrumental in preventing this tragedy," he said pompously. "Of course I officially accept Arthur's assurance as to the extent of your involvement before the fact, and to the placement of your loyalties." Arthur was struck dumb, not able to believe his ears, still half-ready to consider himself asleep and dreaming. "I am prepared to overlook the worth of the UAV you so cavalierly dropped in the ocean, and your law-breaking and rule-violating. Although, the terms of your internship have been violated in such a way that I really don't see how we can keep –"

Gaius did interrupt, then. "Are you firing him, Mr. Drake?" he demanded, shocked. Merlin rose, pale and stormy-eyed, but said nothing.

"Father, you can't do this," Arthur protested. "A few ridiculous rules mean nothing when there are innocent lives at stake."

Thomas Drake turned away from Merlin dismissively. "Arthur, when you run Camelot you can employ anyone you wish," Thomas Drake said, somewhat coldly. "I think I have made myself clear? Dr. Sagesse, if you and your grandson will excuse us-"

Gaius' eyebrow was high in disapproval, but he obeyed the former king, as he'd always done. Merlin stalked to the door behind him as Arthur began to argue, then stopped and said aloud, "No, you know what? Screw the silent martyrdom." He turned and glared at Thomas Drake as only an angry powerful sorcerer can.

"I'm just going to say it," Merlin announced. "Uther Pendragon, you have your head up your ass."

He turned and marched away, Gaius choosing discretion as the better part of valor and following without a word. Thomas Drake was shocked into silence. Arthur himself was having a time of it not laughing out loud – though he did wonder if Merlin's use of the former king's name might not have something to do with his father's reaction. There _had_ been chances in his friend, and who's to say they weren't for the better?

"Father," he manage to say seriously, "he is a genius. Antisocial, as many of them are. But if he doesn't stay, I don't stay, either. If you expect me to learn to run this company, to someday take over the management of Camelot Technologies, it will be with Merlin at my side."

"His name's not Merlin," Thomas Drake said. "And did you hear what he called me? Arthur, that boy is not entirely – sane. How do you expect him to contribute in a worthwhile manner –"

"Damn it to hell," Arthur snapped, feeling suddenly tired of the whole situation. Military technology and terrorist organizations and city-wrecking explosives might – just _might_ – be something for a king to handle, but certainly not a fresh-from-college intern. And right now, he was both. He did not have the control, the authority of a king, and though they might have managed a victory this time, he could see quite clearly that more experience and training were necessary if he expected to hold his own in a modern arena.

"I don't care what your assessment of his mental state is," Arthur continued. "I am not making a threat, but a promise – where I go, he goes. Or I will not be part of the Camelot _you've_ built." He felt a sudden sinking feeling that had nothing to do with his temper, as if all of the blood had drained from his head down through his chest.

Through suddenly blurry vision, Arthur saw his father's face redden. "Now see here, Arthur," he began.

Arthur felt dizzy, and suddenly had trouble holding his head up. Somewhere near, an alarm began to _ding_, echoing oddly in the hallway outside his door. He let his head sag back onto the pillow again, and two nurses rushed into the room, brushing Thomas Drake aside.

"BP's falling," one announced. "Seventy over thirty-five." A whirring sound accompanied Arthur's gradual trip to a prone position. The second nurse removed the pillow to lay his head flat on the mattress, while the one who'd spoken turned to scold Thomas Drake. "You were allowed to see him on condition that you didn't excite him – you need to leave now, sir, please and thank you."

In a haze, Arthur watched his father leave, and there in the doorway, a thin silhouette topped by black hair. _I'm sorry, Arthur_.

"It's not your fault," he responded thickly.

"Don't try to talk, dear," the second nurse instructed him, and he closed his eyes.


	15. Two Servants

Chapter 15: Two Servants

Arthur knew it would feel worse the second day. The morphine they'd given him immediately was down-graded to a nice but decidedly second-rate Demerol. He thought he knew how a tennis ball must feel, post-Wimbledon. Or a soccer ball after the World Cup. Or a golf ball…

"Or a hockey puck," he announced at the door of Merlin's room.

The sorcerer was cross-legged on the bed, hunched over his old battered laptop resting on the green cotton blanket. Merlin looked up at the odd greeting, the intensity in his eyes and the bruising on his face making him seem, for a single instant, dangerously malevolent. Then he grinned, and his features resumed good-natured familiarity.

"Arthur!" he said. "I'm surprised they could get you out of bed – I told the nurse _I_ could manage it for them, easy –"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said amiably, directing his wheeled IV-pole into the room and easing himself down in one of Merlin's guest-chairs next to the bed.

"They told you, no solid food for non-ambulatory patients, didn't they," Merlin said, nodding sagaciously. "I told them, Arthur won't get out of bed for a bowl of oatmeal, no, he needs _sausage_ in the morning –"

"Shut up, Merlin!" Arthur warned. He looked around for something to throw as Merlin snickered.

It occurred to Arthur how often Merlin had hidden his true feelings behind that wide grin. Not that the smile wasn't genuine… it was, he felt, every time. But Merlin was surprisingly complex, emotionally, and it was difficult to tell what else was going on behind the open friendliness. Especially for someone like Arthur, who had never excelled in sensitivity where the feelings of others were concerned.

"Merlin, are you – happy?" he asked awkwardly.

Merlin gave him an I-can't-believe-that-just-came-out-of-your-mouth look. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Answer the question," Arthur said.

There was that three-second pause of complete innocence again. "Of course," Merlin said, and it was a lie. After a moment in which Arthur tried to think of another way to come at the question, and Merlin studied Arthur warily, the sorcerer added, "I mean, the drones are all taken care of, and we're safe, and no one was hurt."

But was that enough? "Well, it's all over now, and… you've had some time to think," Arthur stumbled over his words. "I mean, are you mad about having to do all this –" he waved his hands in the air to indicate the hospital, the conspiracy that had sent them there, the whole situation – "all over again?"

"What do you mean?" Merlin was being evasive, Arthur thought.

"Don't pretend like it was easy for you, when I was prince – or king - because I know it wasn't," Arthur commanded. "I'm sorry about that – you don't know _how_ sorry – but now that we have another chance -"

"You don't have to be sorry," Merlin said.

"Will you stop interrupting and answer the question?" Arthur was irritated and impatient with his own ineptness.

"I would if I knew what the hell you were trying to ask," Merlin said, puzzled.

"Screw Destiny," Arthur stated. "You always have a choice. I want to know, if you want it to be different this time."

"Hell, yes," Merlin said.

"Different how?" What was Arthur going to do if Merlin decided he didn't want to throw himself in harm's way for any of them anymore, hide his magic from a disbelieving world, work hard with little thanks or recognition? What if he wanted nothing to do with them anymore? And for that matter, what came next? He couldn't quite believe that they had finished the job Destiny had returned them for, that they would be left alone to live their lives in peace.

"Well, for one thing, I'm not washing your socks anymore," Merlin scoffed.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Forget it," he said. "What are you doing?" He gestured at the computer.

"Working." Merlin shrugged, and grinned again, but this time Arthur wasn't fooled. This time he _knew_ Merlin.

"On what?"

"You know – this and that. Gaius said he talked to your father and my job is safe at least for now so it looks like we'll still be working together in Camelot after all – or at least we will be when they get the building fixed –"

"Merlin," Arthur interrupted, not following his friend on the long distracting side topic. "What are you working on?"

Merlin sighed, and chose honesty. "They've asked me to see if I can track Mordred down," he said.

"_They_?"

"Arthur Drake?" A voice spoke from the doorway, carrying more authority than the nursing staff. More authority than Thomas Drake, almost.

A tall, serious-looking man in a comfortable dark suit looked down on Arthur, dressed in hospital pajamas and rubber-treaded socks, and leaning rather heavily on an IV pole. Arthur struggled to his feet to meet the man face to face.

"I'm Gibson Chance," the man said. He looked over Arthur's shoulder to give Merlin a nod in greeting. A glance back showed Arthur that Merlin had gone back to his laptop, and he ushered the man back to the hallway. "There are a lot of people who'd like to meet you, Mr. Drake, thank you in person," Chance began.

"Arthur," he said.

"What?"

"Just – call me Arthur." _Mr. Drake_ was his father.

"I have to say, you have impressed many people, in influential places," Gibson Chance continued. There was no hesitation in his manner, no hint of self-consciousness. Arthur knew he was in the presence of a professional, and appreciated it. It was very like meeting another king in person.

"I had no intention of impressing anyone," Arthur said. "In fact, I did very little. The credit must go to my computer wizard here." He gestured to the skinny teenager hunched over the battered laptop on the hospital bed.

"That's funny – Marvin said as much of you," Chance said. "But your friend here has gotten ten different job offers in as many hours.

"Job offers?"

"NSA, FBI, the Pentagon, Microsoft, Interpol – to name a few." Gibson Chance's serious demeanor cracked enough to allow a slight smile.

At last Merlin was getting the recognition he deserved, from folks that mattered. He'd once said to Merlin, _you_ _never sought any credit_ – and now he understood why. As King Arthur, it was part of his position to be seen by the people - defeating enemies, protecting the kingdom, wearing that target squarely on his back - in some sense the most powerful servant of Camelot. The centuries had changed that. Publicity, he instinctively felt, was no longer his friend. As for Merlin, however, would he accept one of these offers?

Gibson Chance unknowingly answered the question, "He said, his place is at your side – if you wanted to take a job outside your father's business, then so would he. Otherwise…" Chance shrugged.

"He said that?" Arthur glanced behind him through the door of the hospital room, ridiculously gratified, and humbled.

"It's unusual to find loyalty so – unswerving, in one so young," Chance observed.

"Merlin's always had loyalty in spades," Arthur said proudly.

"Merlin?" Polite curiosity.

Arthur smiled blandly. "A nickname," he said.

"Merlin, and Arthur," Chance said. "In Camelot." The agent's tone made Arthur uneasy. This was not a man who laughed off coincidences easily. "I was told, you both have been interns at Camelot Technologies for about two weeks?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Had you two ever met before that?" Again, the polite curiosity.

Arthur assessed the man openly. Of course the truth was unbelievable, but he felt sure this man would know a lie if he heard one – and he would have the resources to prove it. "Does it matter how long we've known each other?"

"No, I suppose not." Gibson Chance studied him, and he wondered if he was very much different from other college graduates, corporate interns, CEO's sons. He wondered if, maybe, the _crown_ showed, to someone like Chance. "But the two of you act like some long-term partners I've known."

Partners. That was a good description of their relationship, wasn't it? A good picture of what he'd be perfectly satisfied with, in the future, no matter what the future held for them.

The man smiled enigmatically, but Arthur had the feeling he wouldn't simply let the matter go. The agent's eyes returned to Merlin, speculatively, and Arthur followed his gaze, looking at his friend objectively. Merlin worked the keyboard with one hand, resting the one in which the IV needle was inserted. In profile, Merlin's eyes weren't visible, whether blue or gold.

Beside this intuitive government agent, Arthur had a sudden urge to warn his sorcerer to caution and secrecy – and felt overwhelmingly nauseated at the bitter irony of that inclination. It wasn't a question anymore of legality or illegality. It might be just as dangerous for Merlin now, for his magic to be exposed to the wrong people, as it was when Uther would have executed him for it.

Merlin lifted his head to meet Arthur's gaze as if he could hear the former king's thoughts – and Arthur wouldn't be surprised to learn that for truth, either. Merlin gave him a whimsical smile, as much to say, _that's okay. Don't worry about it. I'm used to hiding, and don't mind it much._

_I use it for you, Arthur, only for you_ – and if Arthur knew, if Arthur respected and appreciated, that was all Merlin needed.

He hoped someday he'd deserve that devotion.

"Another story for another day?" Gibson Chance suggested. Arthur shrugged noncommittally. "Speaking of stories," the agent continued, "this is shaping up to be one hell of an investigation. We'd like to arrange a time and place convenient to get your testimony on record, yours and Marvin's – answer the questions only once, you see."

"Sure," Arthur said. "Whenever they release us from here." He thought he'd speak with Camelot's legal team also – all of them would, the knights and Merlin also. No good would come of incriminating themselves in a deposition, and handing leverage to whoever might want to ask awkward questions, or force cooperation.

Gibson Chance handed him an embossed business card. "Let us know what works for you," he said, and let another small smile escape. "Bear in mind, please, that our superiors are exceedingly anxious to hear your story – and to use whatever evidence you can supply in bringing these perpetrators to justice."

"One more thing," Arthur said, pointing the business card at Merlin. "You've got him on the trail of the Mordred who hacked our system and programmed the drones?" Gibson Chance nodded, and Arthur added, "You're paying him for that, right?"

This time the smile was genuine. "You know, Arthur Drake, you have quite a team. You may be hearing from us on a consulting option. Until then, we look forward to hearing your testimony."

Arthur sighed, watching the agent walk away. There were times, he reflected, that it was damn inconvenient to be an ordinary citizen. He re-entered Merlin's room in a mood slightly more foul, flicking the card away from him onto the green cotton blanket.

"You'd prefer a feast or a banquet," Merlin murmured, "to celebrate victory over attacking enemies?" He glanced up at Arthur, gold fading to blue in his eyes below the edge of his shaggy black hair.

"Over the miles of red bureaucratic tape?" Arthur sighed. "Any day."

"Well, you always did have a preference for commemorations where food was included…"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur warned, then decided that his friend's attempt to lift his spirits had done just that. He smiled and shot back, "So when do they serve lunch?"

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

Friday afternoon, Landmark Mall was crowded, but not unpleasantly so. The giggling groups of teenagers were amusing rather than obnoxious, the young lovers sweet, the families inspiring. Even the pairs of old ladies in track suits and tennis shoes brought out Arthur's charming smile, as he sauntered through the middle of the lower floor, Gwen on his arm, heading in a leisurely manner for the food court.

Ahead of them, Gwaine hailed a female acquaintance, a trim blonde with a Macy's bag on one elbow and what looked to be an older sister or cousin at the other. He dragged a semi-reluctant Leon over to where the two young ladies had halted at Gwaine's call, exchanging glances and smiles. Off to one side, Kathryn had pulled Percival to a stop at a jewelry store's display window.

Beside him, Gwen chuckled, squeezing Arthur's hand before releasing it and quickening her steps to join Kathryn. Arthur lagged a moment to bring Merlin into step beside him.

"You're not nervous about letting Gwen window-shop in a jewelry store?" Merlin teased.

Arthur faked a shudder, and rolled his eyes. "You know Guinevere," he said. "She'll want something small and I'll try to get her to agree to more carats… Elyan said we had to wait til he had shore leave, again. How'd your deposition go?"

Merlin smiled a secretive smile, and shrugged. "Fine. I overwhelmed them with unnecessary and convoluted technical explanations, and they finally gave up asking the more awkward questions," he said.

Arthur scoffed. " 'I have no idea, I was in the tavern at the time'?"

Merlin threw back his head and laughed, his voice mixing with the patter of water droplets from a fountain they were approaching, and it was such a welcome sound, a _happy_ sound, that Arthur smiled, pleased and satisfied himself.

"And Mordred?" Arthur said. The name no longer brought the same cloud of foreboding to either of them – it was a name only, a hacker's alias. And Merlin, to Arthur's mild surprise, had turned out to be quite the cyber-hunter.

Another smile, of satisfaction. "He was in Belgium this morning," he said. "If he somehow gives them the slip, I'll find him again."

"Have they talked you into joining the agency yet?" Arthur asked. He kept his tone light, so Merlin would not know how incredibly important the answer was to him. Partners… the _first servants_ of the kingdom.

Merlin's answer was also light, but meaningful. "That," he said, "is a hell of a thing for you to say to me." Arthur fought back the urge to punch Merlin's shoulder, then reconsidered, and did it anyway, just not very hard. Merlin said "Ow," and made a fuss, but he was smiling too.

As they came up along the fountain, Arthur idly noticed a petite brunette, wearing a burgundy sundress and gladiator sandals, seated on the tile ledge surrounding the fountain. She looked up from dangling her fingers in the spray, looked at the two of them with warm brown eyes – looked at _Merlin_, and smiled one of the sweetest, happiest smiles Arthur had ever seen.

"Agent Chance said they had some training scenarios they'd like us to run through," Arthur mentioned. "And by us, I mean you and me, Leon, Gwaine, and Percival. My father is thinking of promoting Leon to the head of Camelot security – and Percival and Elyan are both receiving commendations from the military." Gwen left the jewelry display and returned to Arthur's side. He continued, "My father is trying to talk me into going back to Brown for a Master's this fall, but – you're not listening to me."

Merlin had stopped walking. Gwen questioned Arthur with a look as she took in the sorcerer's expression. "Arthur," he said. His voice sounded odd, like some great inner delight was clamoring to erupt, and he was struggling to contain it. "Can I meet you later at the food court?"

Arthur said, "Yeah," and Merlin turned to look directly into his eyes, a strange wild light in his own blue ones.

"Can I bring someone with me?" he said.

Arthur said, "Sure," half-laughing at his friend. He didn't mind at all seeing Merlin behave more like an 18-year-old than a mature sorcerer aware every minute of his great responsibilities.

Merlin turned and loped back to the fountain, to the girl who had smiled. In his hand was a single rosebud, materialized from thin air.

"Hey," Arthur objected, speaking to Gwen. "Did he just do magic to hit on a girl?"

Gwen was smiling. "Don't be hard on him," she said. "He's had a pretty lonely time of it. A nice girl might be just what he needs – and she looks like a nice girl."

Merlin slid onto the tiled ledge surrounding the fountain, and offered the single rose to the girl, who dimpled as she accepted it, leaning casually against Merlin's shoulder. Both of them looked ecstatic, and Arthur wondered what his own face had looked like when he'd seen his Guinevere again. Love at first sight…

The girl put the rose to her nose to sniff it, and Arthur caught a gleam of gold from Merlin's eyes as a tiny white butterfly emerged from the bud to flutter in the air before the couple. Arthur held his breath – surely she'd _seen_ that. She'd scream, she'd run, she'd brush him off with some fabricated excuse…

The girl _laughed_, and Merlin grinned, happy and content. He looked across at Arthur and nodded, and Arthur nodded back, Gwen's hand in his. Because they were partners, weren't they? And always would be.

**A/N: Thank you everyone once again for your encouragement and support in the way of reviews, favorites, follows. Hopefully most of you are pleased and satisfied as I am!**

**And a mug of hot chocolate to whoever spots the Tombstone reference!**

**FYI: The sequel has been started: The Emrys Strain. Chapter 1 posted, more to follow… :D**


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